


Salvation

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel's family is dysfunctional, Doctor Castiel, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Getting Back Together, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Supportive Castiel, Therapy, Veteran Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 99,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is an honorably discharged marine who lives in celibacy because celibacy is better than the alternative.</p><p>Castiel is a well renowned doctor who has suffered through enough death for a lifetime.</p><p>Before all this, Dean and Castiel were "the real thing", according to everyone around them. Then life happened and they were screwed out of everything.</p><p>Now, ten years later, Dean and Cas see each other again and they have to face everything holding them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is the first story i've dared upload and the first i've written with Supernatural characters so... bear with me and so do comment if you have any... comments?  
> Also, this is unbetaed and although I've thoroughly checked it I'm sure there have to be mistakes somewhere in there.  
> And it starts kinda sad but i promise it eventually gets really fluffy-seriously.  
> Anyways, hope you like it and let me know...

 

If Dean was forced to sit through another five minutes of Sam’s sickeningly romantic monologue he was going to puke. He was physically going to vomit the contents of his stomach because Sam wasn’t simply in love; no, he was demented. It was unnatural… talking so much about one single person, thinking so much about one single person—frankly, he was getting a little stalkerish in Dean’s opinion. Not that Dean was willing to share his mind with Sam on the matter. No. Dean was going to wait patiently for the take out to arrive so he could stuff his younger brother’s mouth with something repulsively healthy and leave it at that.

 

Which was why Dean, when he heard the familiar chirping of his work cellphone, all but jumped from the couch where they were sitting together. The text he got read 911—not surprising since it would only be an emergency for the department to call him in on his day off. Not wanting to waste any time he ran to his bedroom and grabbed his backpack, already preparing to call the station.

 

“Sorry Sammy; gotta take a rain check.” He mumbled hurriedly, balancing on one foot as he tried to pull the boot on his other. After almost falling on the floor twice, much to his dismay, he managed to put his damn shoes on and holster his gun around his waist.

 

Meanwhile, Sam had turned on the TV where a news reporter stood outside of a bank being robbed. An educated guess told Dean that was where he would be headed.

 

“No problem, just be careful.” Sam hid behind his beer but Dean could tell his brother was worried. He couldn’t blame him. Half the time he himself was worried about what kind of fucked-up shit he was going to walk into. Hell, half the time he hesitated before going into said shit. In the end though, he always had to step in; they were counting on him.

 

“Always am, Sammy and turn that off.” He jerked his head to the television, now going on about the hostage situation. “They get half the things wrong anyway.” He tried reassuring his little brother before closing the door behind him.

 

*****

 

As it turned out he was right. After he got to the station for the briefing and changed into his uniform as fast as possible, he and his team were sent out to the bank. The bank was a bloody mess. The police had made sure to evacuate the area in front of the old building but the news reporters and ever so caring and law-abiding citizens were staring and chattering, glued of course to the barricades or the yellow crime scene tape.

Then there were the police officers and detectives who were skittishly waiting for the negotiator, who—needless to say—was stuck in traffic. Of course, there were also three injured bank employees who the robbers had let out as messengers.

Now, while Dean was handing out assignments to his team so they could set up shop, the FBI had just announced they were stepping in.

 _Oh, this is just screaming positive outcome_.

Dean walked over to the detective in charge while his team started organizing in one of the trucks. “What do we know?"

 

“Four robbers, they claim if we don’t meet their demands they are shooting all the hostages.”

 

“How many hostages?”

 

“The guys that were sent out say about twenty. Rush hour.”

 

“Shit.” Dean mumbled, walking back to the SWAT truck.

 

“Hey, Captain, we got eyes.” Benny, his second in command let him know, already strapping his vest and protective gear on.

 

A glance at the screen told Dean the situation wasn’t getting any better. The robbers were escalating. One of them was threatening a bank employee with an assault riffle. The woman was down on her knees crying. Of course that only served to agitate the rest of the hostages and a brave knight starting getting up from the floor where they were all huddled.

 

“Don’t do it, man” Jax, his communications officer muttered, observing the screen.

 

Sure enough the instant the white knight got to his feet another robber shot him. Dean’s instinct and training kicked in and he started handing out commands to his team. The time for negotiations was long gone. He sent a sniper on the roof a building that seemed to have a clear shot while the rest of his team got into position for a tactical entry.

 

“I have the solution.” The sniper confirmed.

 

“Take it.”

 

They heard glass shatter but before the panic of what had just happened could set in, Benny, who was taking point in front of Dean, gave the go and they broke down the back door, hurrying into the bank. They shot down two of the masked men, and a third was lying on the floor, courtesy of the sniper, but the last one was nowhere to be found.

 

“Check the perimeter. Everything is on lockdown he couldn’t have gone anywhere.” Dean shouted, eyes scanning the foyer. “The vault.” He jerked his head to the direction of the barred room behind the tellers’ desks while police officers came swarming in to get the hostages out safe. “Check everyone before letting them out.” Dean told the officers, not willing to let the bastard go.

 

He signaled to Benny and Jax to take the left side of the room while he and Ed took the right. Dean took point with Ed following behind him and found a flight of stairs going down. He turned on his flashlight with one hand while the other kept griping the gun but before he could survey the stairs, the world around him went black.

 

*****

 

Consciousness was slowly creeping back into him. He tried opening his eyes but was blinded by florescent light. His head hurt. He tired taking a deep breath and his chest hurt. He smelled the familiar cleanliness of sanitizer and alcohol and realized he was in a hospital. _Great._ Just when he thought his day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

 

Wait… why was he in a hospital?

 

 _Oh, right… bank robbery. Shit! Where was Ed?_ He hadn’t had time to warn him before passing out. He must have taken a blow to the head. He groaned.

 

He tried opening his eyes again, this time succeeding.

 

“Welcome back to the land of the living Captain.” A perky nurse dressed in blue stood at the foot of his bed writing something on a chart.

 

Dean’s only response was a pained groan. He needed to check on his team. He tried standing up only to be stopped by the perky nurse. “Owo, there.” She forced him back down. She was quite strong for her size; or maybe Dean was too strung out. “The doctor is on his way and he will explain what happened. Also a friend of yours, Benny, is outside. Would you like me to call him in?”

 

“Yeah, that would be good.” He croaked and the nurse put a straw to his lips so he could drink some water before she left the room. Okay, maybe she wasn’t that bad.

 

A few moments later she came back with Benny by her side. “Hey, Dean. You feeling alright buddy?” his friend had a tendency to worry too much, Dean thought.

 

“Yeah.” Dean mumbled quietly, feeling his headache getting worse. “What happened?”

 

Benny sighed, dragging a chair closer to Dean’s bed so he could sit. “It turned out there weren’t only four robbers. There were six and two of them were posing as hostages. When you and Ed—who is fine by the way don’t worry—when you went after the fourth guy and found the staircase you kind stumbled upon them as they were trying to leave. One of them slammed his gun on your head and threw you down the stairs. Ed shot him and then Jax and I came and took down the other two. Satisfied?”

 

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He couldn’t let anything happen to his team. “So everyone is fine?”

 

“Yep but you took a pretty bad hit.”

 

Dean was about to argue but his vice caught on his throat when a man he hadn’t seen in six years and spoken to in ten walked in the room carrying Dean’s chart.

 

Dean felt his heart skip a couple of beats and he hoped to god he wasn’t drooling because he knew for a fact he was already ogling. Benny apparently seemed to find his reaction amusing and snickered by Dean’s bed. Dean would have to deal with that later; for now he had to take in what was in front of him so he could try and figure out if it were real.

 

“Cas?” He whispered, not sure if his voice made it out of his throat.

 

Cas of course, ever serious and composed, didn’t seem the least bit unfazed at seeing Dean. Then he remembered Cas was his doctor so he must have seen him earlier.

 

“Hallo, Dean.” The man smiled and even though Dean was lying on a bed, he still felt his knees go weak.

 

“Wait a minute.” Benny jumped, realization hitting him. “This is _Cas_?” He looked to Dean but Dean was still way too out of it to form a coherent reply. “So…. I’ll go and…uhm, yeah. See you.” Benny made a hasty retreat, closing the door behind him and then Dean and Cas were left alone in the room.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked as soon as he had managed to find his voice.

 

“I came back last week.” Cas swallowed, some of his perfect composure falling away. A few years ago, Dean would have smirked at his accomplishment. He found he didn’t have the energy for that any more.

 

“Were you going to call?” his voice was quiet, trying to mask his hurt. Trying to mask ten years of hurt. _So yeah, a lot of hurt._

Cas took a step closer to Dean but he was still too far away. “I was actually.” He looked down at his shoes, a sign Dean knew meant Cas as nervous. “I had even made a list of what I was going to say to you.”

 

Dean smiled at that, the gesture reminding of his once best friend. “So, how come you haven’t?”

 

“I wasn’t sure where we stood. I mean, last time we spoke, I was kind of an asshole to you and I wanted to apologize.” Cas chuckled, still looking at his shoes. “That was actually the second thing I had planned to say, just after, ‘heard you got back from the warzone’.” He admitted bitterly.

 

That was enough to sober Dean up as he was reminded of their parting terms. But Castiel wasn’t the only one at fault. “No, I was an asshole too.” He nodded and now it was his turn to avert his gaze. “You were right.” He lowered his voice. “I enlisted without thinking. I threw away everything we had because I was upset and I treated you like a jerk. I’m sorry.”

 

“God, we screwed up.” Dean looked up to see Castiel smiling at him and he noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

 

Cas had always been pale but he was downright ghost-looking now. His face was thinner than Dean remembered it, his once radiant blue eyes were dim and red with worry and stress and the skin underneath grey. He was struck by the need to reach out and comfort but he knew he had lost that right a long time ago.

 

“Why are you back here, Cas?” he asked, his face serious. Cas had hated this place growing up or more accurately he had hated the implications living here ensued… mainly when it came to his family. When they were younger, Castiel couldn’t wait to get out of here and now he was back?

 

Cas’s face fell and he took another step closer to Dean, this time probably unconsciously. “Gabriel is sick. I wanted… I wanted to be here in case…” Cas’s voice trailed off and this time Dean didn’t hesitate. He reached out and took hold of Castiel hand, squeezing but it did nothing to dim the longing all those years apart left them with.

 

Castiel gasped at the gesture, letting the heavy chart he was holding drop to the floor. He didn’t pull away though, instead he moved himself to sit on the edge of the hospital bed.

 

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean said honestly. He knew Gabriel was the member of Cas’s family that the man had the best relationship with.

 

“He has cancer.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Dean repeated, at a loss of what else to say. Once he would have been able to offer the shoulder Cas needed to cry on or the comfort he needed provided; now, he could barely hold himself up.

 

“Remember what I told you when you signed up? That going there won’t bring your father back? I became a doctor because this… this _disease_ runs in my family and I can’t stop it! I can’t even pick up on it in time!”

 

“It’s not your fault Castiel.” Dean tried reassuring him but he knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere. Death and cancer and depression had plagued Cas’s family for as long as Dean knew him and for as long as Dean knew him, Cas wanted to become a doctor because of it. Only, as it turned out, being a doctor wasn’t enough.

 

Dean felt it all the way to where their hands were touching that Cas wanted to snap at him. He wanted to let years of grief and aching and disappointment go but he forced it down and smiled tightly instead, pulling away from Dean. Dean thought after the first time they parted ways it would get easier; with a deep disappointment he realized it would only get harder.

 

“I know.” Castiel acknowledged, standing up and picking the chart from the floor to go over it with Dean. It was clear he was done talking; he was snapping back into doctor mode so Dean did his best to turn into the patient.

 

Castiel cleared his throat before starting to recite Dean’s patient chart. “You have suffered a concussion, most like from some blunt object to the back of the head, as well as multiple contusions to your back and chest. You have two cracked ribs, although considering your fall it is a miracle they aren’t broken. Also, a dislocated shoulder and numerous, I’d say, bruises, which is to be expected when one falls down a flight of stairs.” Cas said tightly as he made some notes on the papers.

 

Suddenly, a terrifying thought occurred to Dean. “Where you my doctor—I mean, did you examine me and…all that?”

 

Cas seemed to understand what Dean meant. “Yeah, I… I saw the… the scars and the—”

 

“Thank you Dr. Novak.” Dean said coldly, his jaw set. Regretfully, he could see his bluntness had hurt Castiel but he needed to protect himself right now. He had promised no one would see and for a year and a half he had managed to stay put together. He’d be damned if he let Castiel Novak rip him apart.


	2. The Usual Suspects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny and Sam try to convince Dean that he needs to acknowledge his thing with Cas. Dean doesn't agree with them.

“So, that was Cas.” Benny was trying to pull off casual but it wasn’t really working for him.

 

Dean snorted, taking a set slowly next to Benny on the couch, careful not to irritate his ribs. “Yep. That was Cas.” He admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

 

“What are you gonna do?” That was Benny, always getting to the chase.

 

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “What do you expect me to do?”

 

Benny rolled his eyes before taking a swig of his beer. “Man, that guy is your one true love and you’re just gonna sit here?” He asked disbelievingly.

 

“Look at you getting all romantic.” _Yep, sarcasm was Dean’s defense tactic. So sue him._

 

“Dean, I’m serious. When we were on our first tour, you were head over heals for the guy even though you weren’t together anymore.”

 

“Yeah, past tense is key in your argument, you know.”

 

“Don’t give me that. I know you well enough.”

 

Benny was right; it was pointless arguing with him. “I’m a different person now, Benny and me and Cas… we didn’t part on the best of terms.”

 

“That’s bullshit!” Benny ignored him, set on convincing him. “You weren’t awake when we brought to the ER. You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

 

“The person he looked at that way was literally carved out of me.” Dean snapped, wanting more than anything to be able to get Cas back but knowing he couldn’t.

 

That seemed to get across to Benny who riled back like he was hurt. Dean knew his words would have that effect which was the precise reason he chose them. Dean and Benny had served together; sworn to always protect each other but when Dean needed him the most he wasn’t there. The worst thing was, Dean didn’t even blame Benny; he knew his best friend wouldn’t have been to do anything and he would most likely have gotten himself killed in the process of trying.

 

Benny however, didn’t see it that way. In his mind, he had failed and Dean was using that against him right now. He knew it made him a horrible person and a hideous friend but after everything, he had begun to value the sense of self-preservation.

 

“I know you think that.” Benny started cautiously. “But it is not true. I see it everyday. Everyday you get better and you should give yourself some credit for it.”

 

“If that’s what makes you feel better.” Dean snorted, taking another jab at Benny.

 

“I also know you don’t really think it’s my fault so this thing that you’re doing, it won’t work this time.” Benny raised his voice, more angry rather than guilty as Dean had hoped. “You need to stop hiding behind what happened and I won’t pretend to know what you feel like because I can’t begin to understand it but it is not a good enough reason to punish yourself for the rest of your damn life.” He said finally.

 

Times like these reminded Dean of why Benny was his best friend. Never giving him a rest, that was one of Benny’s best features. “I can’t give him what he wants.” He said quietly.

 

Benny’s voice softened at seeing Dean struggling. “You don’t know that.”

 

Dean chuckled bitterly, knowing that if he told Benny the truth about everything, then his best friend would agree with him. “Benny, I _can’t_. I can’t do it anymore.”

 

Benny sighed, his voice even calmer as he spoke again. “Like I said, I won’t pretend to know what this feels like but maybe… maybe if you try it with _him_ then it will be easier?” he proposed hesitantly. “Just think about it, okay?”

 

Dean turned to look at him, ready to say no but Benny looked so damn hopeful about it; so intent on making sure Dean tried this with Cas that he could only nod instead.

 

Benny’s reaction of course was to give him a bear hug, suffocating him. “Get off me, you lug.” He groaned and he would never admit to it but he actually liked it.

 

*****

 

Dean was in the middle of changing his sheets when he heard a decisive and continuous knock on his door. He checked the clock and seeing it was almost ten in the night, he figured this could only be Sammy.

 

As soon as Dean had opened the door, his brother jumped on him, causing him to stagger backwards, barely holding himself up. “What the fuck is up with bear hugs today?” he mumbled into Sammy’s shoulder.

 

Sammy pulled back, huge grin practically splinting his face in two. “I did it, Dean! I did it!” he all but started to jump up and down.

 

“Okay?” Dean narrowed his eyes, unsure of where this was going.

 

“I asked her to marry me. I did it! And she said yes!” Sammy squashed him in another bear hug.

 

If Dean was surprised, it was only for a couple of minutes. Jess and Sam were madly—literally madly and obsessively in love with each other. There was so much sweetness involved in their relationship it made Dean’s teeth rot whenever he was around them.

 

“Congratulations Sammy.” He patted his brothers back. “How did you ask her?” Dean moved to the kitchen where Sam took a seat at the table.

 

“Well, actually it wasn’t a big deal. We were just lying in bed—”

 

Dean gagged, faking disgust. “I don’t wanna know that!” he stated seriously.

 

“Whatever, man. As I was saying we just started talking about the baby, you know she’s like four months along already and I asked her if she would like to marry me.” Sammy’s face had turned red. If this had been any different occasion, Dean would be laughing his heart out.

 

“That was it?” he was a little disappointed; Sam and Jess had this great, enchanting love affair _and that was it?_ “That was your great big romantic gesture?”

 

If it were possible, Sammy flushed even deeper. “Hey! Don’t make fun of me. If you want to know, it was a very romantic moment.” He argued. “And,” Sammy started proudly. “If you want to know, we stayed in bed for three hours after that.”

 

“Eww, I did not want to know that!” the image of his little brother and his pregnant fiancée having sex was absolutely not one that Dean wanted in his head right now—or ever for that matter.

 

“Hey, I had to survive _years_ of walking in on you with Cas; you can take a little TMI.”

 

That made Dean sober up, his mind wondering back to when they were teenagers, when everything seemed to revolve around studying or tests and how great were those times? He wished he had appreciated them more now that he knew what the future held.

 

“By the way—”

 

“That was a really smooth transition, Sammy. Congrats.”

 

“Oh, shut up!” Sam walked to fridge, coming back with two beers. “I heard he’s back.” He continued tentatively, noticing the shift in Dean’s mood.

 

Dean took a swig from his bottle and nodded.

 

“Are you going to… I don’t know, do something about that?”

 

“No and how did you find out about it?”

 

Sammy looked away for a moment, hesitating. “Well, benny told me.” He admitted finally.

 

“That explains a few of things.” Dean muttered into the rim of his bottle.

 

“Like?”

 

“Like the both of you not leaving me alone about the Cas thing!”

 

“So now it’s a thing?” Sammy snorted, unimpressed with Dean’s attitude. “Dean, you were ready to let dad disown you as long as you got to be with Cas and now it’s a _thing_?”

 

 _Damn_. Dean just wished everyone would stop reminding him of what Cas and he once were. He had made up his mind; he wasn’t that person anymore.

 

“Listen, Sammy—”

 

“Don’t ‘listen, Sammy’ me! You say I’m sickeningly in love with Jess? Dude! You and Cas were a dozen times worse. You were practically married by the time you went off to college—or have you forgotten about all that?”

 

“Of course I haven’t!” Dean snapped. “You don’t think I want that? You don’t think I want to go to Cas’s house right now and never leave again? Because trust me when I tell you, Sammy, I want that more than you can understand.” He tried to keep his voice from breaking but the mere concept of forgetting Cas or worse, of remembering what they had was too much, too soon. “I loved him! And I threw all that away!” Dean took a breath, trying to clear his mind. “So, _stop_ telling me about Cas, okay? And don’t be foolish enough to let Jess go.” He smiled, even though it was forced.

 

Sam tried to answer a couple of times but every time he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He swallowed half his beer and tried again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that… and I won’t.”

 

Dean sighed, relaxing back in his chair. “Thank you. That is about all the happiness and excitement I can handle right now.”

 

After that, they eased into their comfortable banter, Dean teasing Sam about the wedding and Sam asking him to be his maid of honor. Dean said he’d rather throw him a bachelor party instead and he should just forget the idea of seeing Dean in a dress.

 

About an hour later, Dean was showing Sammy to the door when his brother stopped and turned around, eyes piercing his own. “You know you deserve to be happy, don’t you Dean?”

 

Dean nodded, trying to get Sammy out of there as soon as possible, already feeling his pulse ratcheting up. Once he closed the door, he all but collapsed against it, refusing to believe this was actually happening.

 

 _Dammit!_ He hadn’t had a panic attack in months and _now_ it needed to come? Seriously?

 

He tried calming himself down, breathing techniques and everything else his brief attempt at counseling had taught him but his pulse and breathing only seemed to get more frenzied. His vision was turning black around the edges and his nails were already digging into his scarred palms.

 

_Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Dean, pull it together!_

_Easier said than done._

He pushed himself away from the door, running or actually staggering to his bedroom and pulling the wardrobe flaps open. He literally threw some of the cloths on the floor and fitted himself in the too small and unnaturally confining space, closing the flaps behind him.

 

The familiarity soothed him; it helped calm his breathing and slow his heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around his knees, curling into himself and started rocking his body back and forth as sobs wrecked through him.

 

If he were himself he would be disgusted at his reaction. He would find it appalling and cowardly but for now, he needed the comfort this dark box provided him with.

 

There was plenty of time for self-loathing later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing earth shuttering happening here but it does get better and because this one was quite small, the next one will be coming tomorrow
> 
> i do really appreciate comments so make sure to tell me what you think :)


	3. Family Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I really like this chapter. it gives I think a good insight into Castiel's character and i hope you like it as well.

Cas all but collapsed right on the floor as soon as the door closed behind him. He felt exhausted—which was to be expected after a double shift in the ER. He rarely hated his job but today was just one of those days. It just wouldn’t end and neither would the blood. Blood; just so much of it. Everyone simply seemed to bleed out today; no matter how hard he tried, what he did, he had let six people die in his arms today.

 

Forcing himself to move, he made it to the living room, his heart almost stopping when he saw his brother already sitting there.

 

“Jesus, Gabriel! Don’t you… I don’t know, holler or something?” Cas threw his bag on an armchair and proceeded to do the same with his coat.

 

“Well, you gave me the key.” Gabriel argued coyly.

 

It was pleasant to see that his brother still hadn’t lost his attitude. “Not so you could scare the living crap out of me.”

 

“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Gabriel raised himself up from the couch, Cas already by his side in case something happened. “Relax Casie, I just thought what I am about to tell you is better done face to face.”

 

“Oh, what is it?” Castiel asked cautiously, his mind already conjuring up worst-case scenarios.

 

“Nothing like that, I assure you but you are expected. Sunday night.”

 

Castiel tensed. This was far worse than the scenarios he had been thinking. “Michael’s infamous dinner?”

 

“Oh, you have no idea.” Gabriel shook his head emphatically and Castiel realized his brother wasn’t too pleased about their predicament either.

 

Castiel raised his eyebrows inquisitively at his brother’s tone.

 

“Lucifer is coming back.” Gabriel wrinkled his nose. Castiel guessed his brother was remembering their last family dinner with Lucifer present.

 

“That’s just great.” Castiel mumbled, already trying to come up with a way out of this Sunday’s kink fest. “But why?” Their estranged brother, Lucifer, hadn’t visited them in practically twenty years. It had to be something important for him to come back.

 

Gabriel shrugged, sitting back on the couch with a weary sigh. The medication had already started to take its toll on him. Castiel decided not to linger on that and sat down beside him instead. “Didn’t say but you know Michael. Both you and Lucifer here at the same time? There is no way he’d miss such an opportunity.”

 

“Huh… you have a point. I wonder what Lucifer wants—I wonder what Michael will do!” the thought of his oldest brother, Michael, seeing Lucifer again after their horrendous fall-out was enough to chill Castiel to the bone. And as if that wasn’t enough, he himself hadn’t spoken to Michael in years, even though their parting hadn’t been quite so dramatic.

 

Gabriel chuckled, not thinking too heavily on it. “It’s not like he could kill either of you in the dining room. What’s the worst that could happen… some yelling maybe? Michael telling you what a disappointment you are? Nothing we haven’t heard before.”

 

“Yes, we do favor the dysfunctional as the years have proven.” Which was exactly the reason Castiel had left in the first place.

 

“Oh, come on, Casie. We’re not _that_ bad.” Gabriel smirked, knowing exactly how bad they were in actuality.

 

Castiel groaned, his mind spinning at the thought of the upcoming dinner. The last dinner he’d had in Michael’s house—or their father’s house he supposed—Dean was at his side. Dean had held his hand the whole way through as he’d said that he was leaving; that he wasn’t following the family name; that he needed out.

 

Even and especially after all these years, Castiel was certain he wouldn’t have done it without Dean. He wouldn’t even have thought about it. Instead, he’d probably have resigned himself to a life of regret but then again, he was feeling pretty regretful right now, he supposed.

 

“So, what’s the word? What’s happened all those years I’ve been away?” Gabriel was the only one of his remaining siblings that Castiel had kept in contact with after he left for university. They spoke on the phone fairly often but they were always careful about steering clear of the subject of family.

 

“You really want to know?” Gabriel sounded too serious for his own good, his trademark smirk and sparkling eyes set straight.

 

“Sure.” Castiel sighed. “I should be prepared after all.”

 

“Alright then.” Gabriel got comfortable. “Where shall I start? Well, Michael refuses to talk about either you or Lucifer, who he considers to be his wayward brothers—but then again, he refuses to talk about father and Balthazar as well. When was the last time you spoke?”

 

“Uhm, Balthazar’s funeral. It didn’t go very well.”

 

“Huh…so are you bringing Dean?”

 

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Castiel had been careful enough to let anything regarding Dean slip from his mouth.

 

Gabriel chuckled, amusing himself with Cas’s reaction. “What? Just because you didn’t tell me you thought I wasn’t gonna find out? Little brother, you know me.”

 

Castiel snorted. “I am not bringing him. We aren’t together—or did that slip your mind?”

 

“Yet.” Gabriel murmured, otherwise completely ignoring Cas.

 

“What?”

 

“You aren’t together _yet_.” His brother smiled knowingly and Castiel fought down the urge to punch him.

 

 

*****

 

The dinner was as expected: civilized. His oldest brother Michael had brought out the big guns with a three-course meal and servers and was polite enough to even engage in some awkward small talk. Lucifer, who Castiel hadn’t seen for twenty years, hadn’t changed much. He was his usual sarcastic and snarky self but even he had toned down on the flippant remarks and sly grins. Castiel for his part stayed completely focused on his food, more moving it around the plate rather than eating it and only spoke when one of his brothers spoke directly to him. All in all it was a success.

 

That was until desert.

 

Castiel was sitting next to Gabriel, who had passed on dessert and barely touched the main course and was about to ask him if he was feeling alright.

 

It hadn’t even started as he’d predicted; instead of Michael insulting Lucifer and Lucifer flipping him off, his brother Raphael had turned his attention to Castiel. That wasn’t surprising since Raphael was probably the one Castiel had the worse relationship with but he wouldn’t have guessed Raphael would pick _this_ time to let his irritation show.

 

So when Raphael talked directly to Castiel—something they silently and mutually had agreed to avoid—Castiel was taken aback. “So, Casie” Raphael smiled evilly, “what is up with you? How come you decided to come back here after all?”

 

Castiel managed to not choke on his food, which he considered a success, and took a sip of water. “I got a job at the Northwestern Memorial Hospital and thought I’d give it a shot.” Castiel lied. Gabriel had been explicit about not telling their brothers about his condition.

 

“Is that so?” Raphael smirked, as if not believing him.

 

Castiel was tempted to slap the bloody smirk off the man’s face but he was civilized, _right_? “Yes that is so, Raphael.”

 

“Yes but why did you decided to return to US at all?” His brother insisted, all superior attitude and arrogance in place. “You finally got too dirty helping the little kids in Africa?”

 

Castiel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He had endured Raphael’s taunting for eighteen years before he left, he could certainly endure for a few hours now. “Actually Raphael, I’ve been in the US for two years now. I just refused to come and see you, no matter how much my heart was yearning for it.” Castiel smiled sardonically.

 

He had the pleasure of seeing Raphael’s too-good-for-you façade freeze for a couple of moments and then twist in rage as he heard Lucifer giggling at the end of the table.

 

“As a matter of fact, Raphael, Castiel wasn’t just offered a job, he was offered the chief of trauma position.” Gabriel quipped helpfully and now Lucifer could barely contain the giggling.

 

“Do you find something funny, _dear brother_?” Raphael finally spat through gritted teeth.

 

“You.” Lucifer answered without any hesitation.

 

Raphael’s face twitched but Castiel noticed for the first time that Michael had remained stoic throughout this entire argument, which was absolutely nothing like him. “Us!?” Raphael demanded.

 

“Well, not you—like all of you—more like you as in you Raphael.” He explained, completely calm.

 

Raphael stood from his chair and placed both his hand t he table, leaning ominously toward Lucifer. “How dare you? You haven’t stepped foot in this house for twenty years and now you _laugh_?”

 

Any other man would be squirming in their seat; Lucifer though just stayed completely expressionless, as if waiting for Raphael’s tantrum to pass.

 

Of course that only served to aggravate Raphael even more. “Michael! Will you do anything or simply sit there, ignoring this?”

 

Michael sighed, refraining from looking at Raphael or anyone else, and swallowed what was left in his wine glass. “Raphael, can’t we have a peaceful family dinner? For once?” Michael actually sounded _pained_.

 

Castiel stole a glance at Lucifer who seemed, for the first time in Castiel’s life, unfazed by something.

 

“You keep nagging and nagging about how Lucifer and Castiel aren’t committed to this family and how they have shamed the family name but… do you even listen to yourself?” Michael chuckled, pouring himself another glass of wine. “Lucifer stood up to father before anyone else had the guts to. He left for England with no money and made his own life. Castiel freaking signed up for the Doctors Without Borders and you are making fun of him for it?” he asked disbelievingly.

 

 _Yeah, disbelieving was the word of the day_. Michael was actually standing up for _them_ : for his wayward brothers and to no other than Raphael! What the hell was going on?

 

“Raphael, our mother died, our father followed her. Anna was taken from this word before she even had time to see it and Balthazar wrecked his life on the highway.” He emptied half the contents of his glass. “And now, now Gabriel has cancer and Castiel came here to help him. This family name—our family name—is cursed. I suggest you stop worrying about who’s shaming what and take out some life insurance.” Michael stood up, grabbed the bottle from the table and walked out of the dining room, leaving everyone thinking ‘what the fuck just happened?’.

 

Raphael seemed to struggle with himself but he finally gave up and stormed out of the room, heading the opposite direction as Michael.

 

“This was… uhm…” Gabriel tried but came up short. “Did you tell him?” he asked Castiel.

 

“No! Of course not. I have no idea how he found out.” But if he had to guess, he’d say it was because Michael always seemed to know everything.

 

Lucifer cleared his throat and stood up do he could take a seat opposite from Castiel and Gabriel. He looked concerned but not surprised. “Did you know?” Castiel asked, realization hitting him.

 

Lucifer nodded, his own façade completely gone. Now he just looked like the brother Castiel remembered. “Michael called me.”

 

“Is that why you came here?”

 

“Yes Gabriel. I know I haven’t been brother of the year—or years more accurately—and I know there were times when you needed me and I was gone but I’m here now and I hope you can forgive me.” He said sincerely.

 

Truly, Castiel wasn’t mad or even disappointed at Lucifer. He understood why his brother needed to leave; their family was toxic and up until this moment he thought Gabriel agreed with him.

 

In the end he was proven wrong. “Forgive you?” Gabriel asked incredulously. “You think that you can fix this with an apology?” his brother was absolutely serious and Castiel realized this was the first time he had seen him like that. “Do you know what happened after you left? Our mom slit her wrists in the tub. Castiel found her after the bathroom had flooded with red water! Where were you then? Where were you when he needed you? When _I_ needed you? When our father got so depressed after Anna and mom died that he would lie on his bed in his own filth? When Balthazar wrecked his car? Where were you?” Gabriel was now hysterical, years of pain and built up anger finding their way out.

 

Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down but Gabriel shook it off. “No, Cas, _he_ was nowhere to be found.” Gabriel pushed his chair out and walked out of the dining room, presumably leaving.

 

Castiel sighed, trying to figure out how this had gone to shit so fast. “So, it’s just you and me, then. The two wayward sons.” Castiel said casually.

 

“Yes, it is.” Lucifer nodded, lost in his thoughts. “I’m sorry Castiel. Gabriel is right about everything. I was nowhere to be found.” Lucifer admitted quietly.

 

“I know.” Castiel pushed his own chair out, preparing to leave. “But it’s never too late.” He smiled sadly before walking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, really appreciate comments :)


	4. Torn and Frayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's past is creeping up to him and he runs into Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i think this is the chapter where the good things start? i guess you could say...

_The sky was pitch-black; the dirt-road was pitch black; they couldn’t turn on the truck’s lights in fear they would get jumped. In fear. They couldn’t drive too fast in fear they would be heard. In fear._

_Dean was sitting in the back next to Chavez, a first lieutenant, no older than twenty years old. They were returning to Base after a four-day scouting charge. Scouting for survivors. For their friends._

_None of them saw it but they all felt it: there was bump on the road, not like a rock or dirt but a bump that they knew was an IED. Their driver was the first to realize it and quickly sped up, taking an abrupt turn and trying to avoid the inevitable explosion._

_Of course he couldn’t and before Dean could realize it, the truck was upside down. There were shards of glass in his palms and a piece of shrapnel sticking out from his thigh. He didn’t scream. None of them did._

_Dean turned his head to the right and saw First Lt. Chavez, still alive, trapped under the truck. He crawled his way to him while three guys tried to lift the jeep so Dean and Frederick could pull the Lt. out. Dean knew it was originally nine of them but he could only see six now._

_His mind was racing ahead, adrenaline pumping through his veins and they pulled Chavez out, only to be gushed with blood._

_Dean got to his knees next to the now unconscious Lt. “His femoral artery is torn.” He shouted. “Where the hell is Henderson?” Henderson was their medic._

_No one answered._

_“Where is he?” Dean shouted again, hands trying to put reassure on Chavez’s wound. Not half a minute later his hands were soaked in red. “Oh, god, why is there so much blood!?” he said to himself, not loud enough for anyone to hear._

_Travis, their IED specialist kneeled down next to Chavez, opposite from Dean with a medical kit in his hands. “Come on.” He handed Dean a bundle of bandages and they tired to plug the wound with gauze. Travis then wrapped more bandages around Chavez’s thigh while Dean tried to get him to open his eyes._

_“Chavez!” he slapped his cheek. “Come on, dude!”_

_“Uh, guys… we need to leave.” Frederick pulled the safety off his rifle. “Like five minutes ago.”_

_Dean turned around and saw another truck driving to them. The lights were on and they were on enemy ground. It could only be Iraqi soldiers. “Come on, Winchester! We need to take cover!” Travis hissed, pulling Dean away from Chavez and behind the truck._

_“No, no, we can’t leave him.” Dean insisted, trying to get away from Travis’ hold._

_Frederick put his hand on Dean’s chest pinning him against the vehicle. “He’s already gone! Do you want to be gone to?”_

_Dean stammered for an answer, his throat closed off._

_“Well, do you?” Frederick insisted._

_“No… no, sir.” Dean managed and Frederick let him go so he could grab his gun._

_The truck kept getting closer and they started taking fire. Dean could hear the windows breaking and the sound of bullets hitting metal. They started retaliating but when Dean tried to make visual with the target he saw there were actually two trucks. They didn’t stand a chance. Their radio was still inside the truck, they were taking fire from at least twelve Iraqis and the only thing they could do was keep firing._

_Travis was standing up when his gun emptied out but before he could take cover to reload, a bullet cut through the air and then his head. Dean saw it but did nothing. He kept shooting and he thought he had taken two Iraqis down but then he saw someone collapsing next to him. He did nothing. He kept shooting. A bullet grazed his neck and he felt the pain but he did nothing._

_There were two of them left and no more ammunition. His friends were lying on the ground covered in blood and he had done nothing. He locked eyes with Frederick and saw someone pulling a hood over his face just before he felt another one on him._

_The last thing he saw was his friends’ bloodied corpses and the Iraqis kidnaping Frederick. He had done nothing._

Dean woke with a gasp, his heart pounding through his throat and soaked in sweat. At least he hadn’t screamed this time.

He threw the covers off his body and went straight to the shower, knowing there was no way he could fall back to sleep after that. He hadn’t had a nightmare in almost two weeks; it had to happen, he supposed.

He turned the water to cold and leaned against the shower wall. His hands touched the white tiles leaving behind red, watery stains. He checked his palms, noticing the small tears close to the white, healed scars. There was skin and blood under his fingernails. He slammed his fist against the wall.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was alive and back home! His friends had died so he wouldn’t have to and now he was crying in the shower?

 _Pull it together, Dean!_ He snorted. Yeah, that had been the Holy Scripture lately.

 

*****

 

“Hey, man, you alright?”

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and instinct took over. He jumped up and grabbed the hand spinning it around and pining it to the adjoining back. When his mind finally caught up with his body he realized he was holding Benny against the wall in the middle of the locker room. Dean quickly let go of him and moved to the opposite wall trying to get his breathing under control.

Benny, knowing better than to try again, waited patiently for Dean to come back to himself and only when Dean nodded did he move closer to him. “Everything okay?” he asked cautiously, holding his hands up to show Dean he didn’t mean any harm.

Dean contemplated lying but it wasn’t as if Benny was stupid so he shook his head.

Benny lowered his hands and looked at him sympathetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not really.” Dean admitted, walking away from the wall and back to his locker. He finished putting on his shirt and zipped up his bag.

Benny sat on the on bench next to Dean’s bag. “Are you having nightmares again?”

Dean shrugged, unwilling to talk about it. “Some. They started… I don’t know like a week ago?”

“Look, Dean, if you need anything—I mean, anything at all… just say the word.”

“I know, Benny.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, it will pass… sooner or later."

“Yeah, but until then—”

“I will be fine, just as I have been all this time.” He patted Benny’s back reassuringly. “Now, get your ass home. Tomorrow we will be hanging ourselves from the roof and climbing down. You know how much I love that exercise.” Dean joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Benny took the hint and grunted in exasperation. “Fine, I’m leaving.”

Dean chuckled and fished out the keys for his Impala so he could go grab some pie before heading home. Chuck’s Diner was known for its pecan pie and after deciding to pass by, Dean’s day—or whatever was left of it—was looking a lot better.

A few minutes later, Dean was walking into the familiar Diner and his eyes flew to a hunched trench coated form sitting at one of the tables. Sitting at _their_ table.

He and Cas would come here after school every Friday and sit at the exact same table in the corner of the room. At first they would talk about school games, their teachers, their classmates and then, as they started to get older, they begun flirting with each other, neither of them truly realizing it. Then, after that, they would sit at that table and make plans of where they would go and what they would do once they graduated.

Now, Dean found himself staring at Castiel, not knowing what he should do. But then again, whenever he came here he would sit at their table.

Making up his mind, Dean walked over to Castiel and took a seat in the booth across from him. Cas’s eyes jumped up, clearly surprised to see Dean siting there.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean said simply, taking in the vanilla milkshake Cas was currently working on. “That still your favorite?” he jerked his head to the milky drink.

Castiel let the straw slip from his lips and straightened his back against the vinyl couch. “You know me; once I find what I like I never change it.”

Dean chuckled, realizing fully the double standard of Castiel’s words. “That you do.”

“Hey guys.” Chuck greeted them happily, notepad already in hand. After his old man had gotten sick, Chuck had taken after the dinner. “I honestly haven’t seen you sitting here together in like…forever.”

Noticing the way both Dean and Castiel squirmed in their seats nervously, Chuck cleared his throat and let the subject drop. “So what can I get you Dean?”

“Pecan pie and… another milkshake for this guy.” Dean knew Cas liked to indulge in these milkshakes.

“Coming right up.” Chuck practically ran away from the table before Dean could even thank him.

Cas and Dean remained in a somewhat awkward silence until Chuck came back with their orders. Cas pushed his empty glass aside and grabbed the full one and Dean’s eyes almost popped out of his skull at seeing Castiel remove the straw, bringing it to his lips to tart licking away the cream. Dean knew it wasn’t intentional, it was just the way Cas liked to drink his milkshake but that didn’t stop him from feeling the familiar butterflies in his stomach. He remembered, his reaction had been much the same when he first noticed—really noticed—Cas doing this when they were in high school.

_Seriously, Dean? Now? You want to do this now?_

Dean shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “So Cas, how are you?”

Castiel looked up, a thin line of cream on his top lip. “I’m… working on it, I guess you could say.” He mumbled.

“You have a little” Dean touched his own lip trying to explain.

Thankfully, Cas understood and swiped his thumb over it, sparing Dean the torture of doing it himself. “Thanks.” Cas said, blushing faintly.

However, now that Dean could look at Cas without being sidetracked by his mouth, he realized how drained the man looked again. Hell, he looked even worse than he had at the hospital last week.

“Dean?” Cas sounded like he had been repeating Dean’s name.

“Hm?”

“I said you look tired.”

“Oh.” Dean thought once again about lying—hell lying was probably the smartest thing to do—but he had never lied to Cas before, why should he start now. “Yeah, sleep trouble.” He said vaguely.

“Is it bad?”

Dean shrugged, taking a bite of his pie. “I get few hours. And you—I mean, you don’t look too good either… no offense.”

Cas chuckled, returning his attention to his milkshake before answering. “None taken. My brother Lucifer… he’s back.”

Dean practically choked on the piece of cake he had in his mouth. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, Michael even had a dinner on Sunday night.”

“How did it go?” Dean asked anxiously. Dinner at Castiel’s house was always eventful.

Cas took a deep breath and sat back. “Well, not like I expected. Lucifer didn’t make any sarcastic remarks, Michael was way too contained and Raphael was beyond angry. To make a long story short, Michael found out about Gabriel and called Lucifer and he came—which in itself is weird but then the dinner got even weirder.”

“What do you mean?” Dean leaned closer with his elbows on the table. He wanted to know but he was just eager to hear Castiel talk more.

“It was like… I don’t know, Michael was just _sad_ or something.”

“Michael? The arrogant, self-serving, narcissist Michael was sad?”

“Yeah.” Castiel huffed out a breath. “Dean, it was like he was depressed. He was drinking and going on about how our family’s cursed.” His elbows joined Dean’s on the table and he brought himself closer, lowering his voice. “With everything that’s happened… our parents and Anna and Balthazar—and now Gabriel.” His voice broke and he looked away from Dean.

Without even thinking about it, Dean grabbed Castiel’s hands between his. “Cas? Can you look at me?” he waited until glimmering blue eyes met his. “Your family is not cursed. Your family has had some pretty shitty luck but you’re not cursed and most of all, nothing that’s happened to your family is your fault.” He made sure to emphasize the last part, knowing Cas inherent need to take on the blame.

Dean could just tell Cas was going to argue. “Dean—”

“Cas. Not. Your. Fault.” He said finally, putting every ounce of conviction in his tone.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Cas finally gave up and smiled. It was small and more than a little forced but Dean was proud of himself just as well. “Thank you, Dean. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Your welcome and… I’m sorry—for not being there when Balthazar…” it was Dean’s turn to look away now, at a complete loss as to how to put this eloquently.

“When he drunk half his weight in vodka and smashed his car against a tree?” Cas quipped helpfully. “Don’t worry Dean. Things between us were pretty messed up back then.”

“And now they aren’t?” Dean asked hesitantly, not wanting to temp his luck with Cas.

Castiel seemed to tense but he didn’t pull his hands from under Dean’s yet, which Dean considered to be a good sign. “Well, we are older now; more mature I’d like to think.” Cas explained just as hesitantly. “And we were both hurt back then. I was too selfish to ask and you were… I don’t know. Too hurt to offer?”

“Too scared.” Dean corrected him. “After I realized what the fuck I had done—and that realization came pretty quickly to be honest—I kept thinking about how much I’d… betrayed you. I just woke up one morning and signed up to serve the Marines without even telling you—which was pretty shitty—and to make matters worse, when you told me how you felt about it I…” Dean gathered up whatever courage he had left. “I told you to go find someone else and then I left. That was unbelievably fucked up on my part.”

Dean could tell Cas was surprised by his confession—hell, Dean himself was surprised. They both knew Dean had done all of that but the Dean Cas knew would never admit to it; not here, not in the light of day and not first. The Dean Cas knew would wait until Cas came to him and then, when they were lying in bed in the dark, half asleep, then he’d apologize.

“I was pretty shitty too, Dean; it wasn’t all on you.” He said when he regained his cool. “I trashed your father and kicked you out. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry. I should have been—”

“Hey, enough of that. We both made mistakes and we both regret them. We were young and too in love to think straight.” Dean smiled gently, shutting Castiel up.

Cas looked at his inquisitively for a moment, as if trying to figure something out. “You’ve… changed.”

_Yeah, a year of torture will do that to you._

Dean instinctively tensed up and pulled his hands away from Cas and under the table, rubbing his palms nervously on his jeans.

“Dean, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Cas looked at him with real regret but Dean’s panic was already starting to set in.

_What if Cas found out?_

_What if he found out and decided it was your fault?_

_Could you stand losing him a second time?_

_Why do you even bother anyway?_  


Yes, why do you bother Dean? It’s not like you have anything to offer him. They ripped everything away from you. They made you afraid and disgusted of your own self. Cas doesn’t deserve that on his plate. He doesn’t deserve your filth.

“Dean?”

Cas’s voice startled him. “Sorry… I was thinking about something.” He dug his hand in his pocket, coming up with the money for the pie. “Actually, I just remembered I have something to do and I should go.”

“Dean wait—.” Dean didn’t turn around to see Cas’s disappointment.

 

*****

 

_The Iraqi soldier was beating him. He had lost count of how many times they had beaten him. Could have been hundreds; he could barely feel half his body by now._

_They were asking him something. He couldn’t even bring himself to listen to them, much less answer. He just waited for it to end._

_Then the soldier took his scarf off; he never did that so that got Dean’s attention but the soldier wasn’t an Iraqi… the soldier was Travis from his unit._

_“We died, Dean.” He leaned over Dean ominously. “We were killed and you think you can get off so easily? You think you can just… live a happy life?”_

_Then pain exploded through Dean’s chest as Travis punched him in the ribcage with a set of iron knuckles. “You think you_ deserve _a happy life?” another punch. “You left us to die! You don’t deserve anything!” Travis snarled. “You think you deserve Castiel? You want to taint his life with your filth? Because make no mistake Dean, you are filthy. And you don’t deserve someone like him.”_

_Travis took out his gun and anticlimactically brought it to Dean’s head._

Dean’s eyes shot open just as the gunshot he heard in his dream manifested into screams in his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really hoped you liked it and let me know in the comments :)


	5. Dark Side Of The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas meet at the hospital where Cas is working at. Dean has a PTSD episode but Cas is there to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this chapter is fairly fluffy-or at least fluffier than the previous ones but in any event, it is nice to read. :)
> 
> hope you enjoy it and make sure to comment if you did.

 

Cas stared at the empty place where Dean had been sitting just minutes ago and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. One minute they were fine, even slipping back to their old selves and the next, Dean had run out of here like his tail was on fire.

 

Then again, maybe Cas shouldn’t have opened his mouth without thinking. He should have realized Dean would probably not want to talk about what had happened to make him change like that. When Cas was in Uganda he saw war; he saw war at its worse. He saw what it could to people, how it could tear them apart and leave nothing inside. He also saw how people would rebuild out of nothing. They would just find a small little thing to hold on and pull themselves out of that nasty pit.

 

Cas wondered if that was what had happened to Dean. Had Dean been ripped apart? Not only by bullets but by circumstances as well? Had he been able to put himself back together?

 

Thinking back on the time he first saw him, when he cut open his uniform with a pair of scissors and saw the scars over the once flawless skin, Cas guessed Dean _had_ been ripped apart and judging by the amount of scar tissue, he was holding himself together with teeth and nails.  

 

*****

 

When Cas got to work the next morning, he had been hoping for a slow day in the ER. Double shifts and paperwork, combined with his freaking family were starting to take their toll on him. To make matters worse, Gabriel was scheduled to have his first chemo session today at the hospital and Cas was really hoping to be here but by the looks of it, he’d be lucky if he could manage to leave after his shift was over.

 

He had finished treating and patching up the victims of a nasty car crash when another ambulance drove in and the paramedics carried a SWAT officer strapped to a gurney into the ER. Castiel’s heart sped up at the thought that it might be Dean but as he got the Trauma Room he realized it was another man.

 

“Male, early thirties, GSW to the abdomen, suffered blood loss at the scene.” The paramedic recited and gave them the man’s vitals before leaving the room.

 

Cas knew he shouldn’t be relieved that someone was suffering with a gunshot wound to the stomach but the thought that it was someone other than Dean reassured him.

 

Everything happened in a hustle after that. Castiel patched the wound up temporarily and sent the patient to the OR while he went to get scrubbed in. He had just located the bullet and was about to remove it when the phone in the OR went off and one of the nurses picked it up.

 

“Dr. Novak?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“There is a Captain Winchester down in the lobby and he is threatening the receptionist. He says he wants someone to tell him what is happening to his friend—who you are operating on, I mean.” The nurse said hastily.

 

Castiel chuckled, hand half-inside the patients stomach. “Tell him I’m the one operating on him and I’ll let him know as soon as I’m done.”

 

He tuned out the rest of the conversation and proceeded to extract the bullet. A little over an hour later, after he had checked for internal injuries and damage, he closed the wound and left the OR. He ridded himself of the bloodied gloves and stained gown before heading to the waiting room where he was sure he would find Dean.

 

Sure enough, Dean was pacing back and forth while eight more police officers—Castiel presumed—were trying to get him to sit down with them. Castiel had a feeling Dean hadn’t stopped pacing since they got there.

 

One of the officers saw him approaching and pointed him out, every pair of eyes turning toward him. “Cas, Cas, is he okay?” Dean asked frantically, hands fuzzing around Castiel.

 

“Yes he is just fine. He is still under anesthesia but in recovery.” He smiled at Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder. The other man sagged in relief, his knees practically giving out. “You can go see him if you’d like—but only two at a time.” He turned to other officers who hurried to the recovery ward.

 

“Dean, buddy, are you coming?” A man with a heavy Louisiana drawl asked him.

 

Dean shook his head, not moving a muscle otherwise. “No, you go ahead, I just need a minute.”

 

The man looked ready to argue but seemed to think better of it and walked away. Castiel waited for a few minutes, not moving his hand or talking to Dean, giving him some time to digest the news. He supposed Dean, as the captain of his team, felt responsible for anything that happened to his teammates. Castiel couldn’t argue the logic but also he couldn’t help feeling it was a lot of weight for a single man to take—especially in Dean’s line of work.

 

“Dean? Would you like to sit?” Castiel asked gently.

 

The man straightened and Castiel was surprised to see he was smiling. “Nah, thanks Cas—for what you did for Jax, I mean.”

 

“Don’t mention it; this is the reason I became a doctor in the first place.”

 

“Still though… I just, I didn’t even see it coming. It was during a raid and there was just so much panic and Jax took a shot—I, I don’t know.”

 

“It’s okay, Dean. He is fine now.” Castiel assured, hating the lost look on Dean’s face. “So a raid, huh? That sounds ominous.”

 

“Yeah, well, it is probably—” Dean stopped talking, his pupils dilating and his entire body growing rigid.

 

Castiel could pinpoint the exact moment Dean’s panic set in. There was a siren—a pretty loud one coming from the ambulance bay—and Dean froze like a deer in the headlights. He started breathing faster, hands tightening into fists at his sides and he moved away from Castiel as if in fear.

 

Castiel might not have been a psychiatrist but he could recognize and signs of a PTSD episode.

 

Dean retreated back into the closest corner, where one wall met another, and curled into a fetal position. His eyes were completely open but it was as if he wasn’t registering any of his surroundings.

 

“Dean?” Castiel spoke softly. “I’m going to come closer now. I’m not going to hurt you but I am going to come closer.” He approached the shaking man with slow but certain steps, conjuring up everything he had learnt in med school and his medical career regarding PTSD.

 

When the distance between them was about a foot, he hunched on his knees so they would be in eye-level. “I am going to place my hand on your shoulder now.” He kept his tone neutral. He was relieved that Dean didn’t push his hand away but the man was still skittish and if Castiel had guessed correctly this wasn’t even the bad part of the episode. The continuous noise from the sirens and the speakers in the hospital or the attention they were drawing from others around them wasn’t helping matters either.

 

“Dean, would you like us to move somewhere quieter?”

 

Castiel didn’t wait for an answer; he wasn’t really expecting one. Instead he gently guided Dean up, careful not to put too much force into his touch and led him to the OR wing and into the first supply closet he saw. He hoped the absence of noise would help Dean regain his calm. Also, from the way Dean was wrapping his arms around his chest, Castiel had deduced he would prefer a confined space to a more open one. As soon as they were inside the closet, Dean huddled back into another corner, body rocking back and forth.

 

Castiel shifted through the shelves until he came up with a blanket that he hoped would help with the shaking. He knew it was common for PTSD patients to develop an aversion to touch—especially when suffering through an episode—but looking at Dean, Castiel couldn’t help thinking, maybe that was all he needed.

 

Taking a huge risk and probably being outright stupid, Castiel sat on the floor next to Dean and crossed his legs in front of him. “Dean, I’m going to hold you now; is that okay?” he gave Dean some time to react, even though Castiel didn’t assume he would, and proceeded to do as he said. He pulled Dean into his arms, turning him so he sat in the place between Castiel’s crossed legs and his head rested on Castiel’s shoulder. The tremors going through him were worse than they looked. Castiel grabbed the blanket from the floor beside them and wrapped it around Dean holding him tightly.

 

“It’s okay, Dean.” He soothed, his hands rubbing at the man’s back. Castiel doubted Dean could feel them since he was still wearing his uniform but he continued doing it until he felt some of the shivers subsiding. “Shhh, you’re okay. You’re safe here.”

 

It seemed that constant pressure from Castiel’s arms was enough to stop the shuddering but just as Castiel thought maybe Dean was coming back to himself, he heard a muffled sob against his neck.

 

“Hey, hey, Dean, it’s alright. You’re safe here.” He kept repeating as more, harder sobs wrecked Dean’s form. “Shhh, I got you now, don’t worry.”

 

The sobs kept coming for long minutes, not giving Dean any reprieve, leaving him practically breathless and heaving.

 

"You're alright." Castiel repeated softly one more time before Dean’s body suddenly tensed and he uncovered his face from Castiel’s shoulder. His eyes jumped frantically from Castiel to the room and back to Castiel, undoubtedly trying to make out what was going on.

 

“Dean? Are you back with us?” Castiel asked worriedly but he tried to smile, not wanting to put extra strain on Dean.

 

Dean cleared his throat and took on of his hands out from beneath blanket to wipe at his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m back. What happened?”

 

“I think you had an episode… I mean, PTSD maybe?” Castiel was deliberately treading lightly, knowing this would probably be a sensitive subject.

 

Dean sighed, clearly disappointed. “Sorry.” He mumbled, getting ready to stand up from Castiel’s lap.

 

Castiel tightened his arms around Dean, unwilling to let him go. “Hey, take it easy. Don’t worry about it.” he assured him. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

After a while Dean seemed to relax back into Castiel’s embrace. “Ugh, not very well. It’s like… bits and pieces mostly. How long was I out?”

 

Castiel checked his watch. “About twenty minutes; maybe a little more.”

 

“Damn. I haven’t had one like this in almost year.”

 

“I think the siren tipped you off.” Castiel deduced.

 

Dean seemed to think on it. “Probably. Usually I am prepared for the loud noises and all that because it’s my job but… I don’t know, maybe with Jax and the raid I let my guard down and I…” He swallowed thickly. “How did you bring me out of it?”

 

“I pretty much hugged you. It slows your heart beat and forces you to calm down.”

 

“Thank you.” Dean whispered, keeping his eyes downcast.

 

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.” Cas smiled kindly, sensing Dean was still stressed out.

 

“Still Cas, we are on the floor of a supply closet and you have a grown man, who is crying like a baby by the way, sitting on your lap.”

 

Castiel, before he could stop himself, raised his hand and ran it through Dean’s hair, caressing his scalp in an effort to relax him. “Those were not the tears of a baby, Dean. Those were the tears of a man who has seen things he shouldn’t have.” Castiel whispered, barely resisting kissing Dean's temple.

 

Dean seemed surprised by Castiel’s interpretation, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel was stricken by the need to comfort him again and even though he didn’t know if his touch was welcome, he still put his hand on Dean’s nape and guided him back to his shoulder. He kept rubbing circles on Dean’s back, trying to will the past of the tension out of it but it seemed impossible.

 

“This is so ridiculous.” Dean murmured into Cas’s neck.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We hadn’t seen each other in ten years and now I’m crying all over your scrubs.” Dean straightened up, all the tension returning to his muscles. “I should go.”

 

“Hey, hey.” Cas shushed him, completely conscious of his tone. “Look, if you tell me right now, like right now, that you’re fine, then I’ll let you go.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, remembering how much he used to enjoy that. “Are you okay or do you need a few minutes?”

 

When Dean replied, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “I think just a few more minutes.”


	6. The Purge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real stuff starts to happen--this is the best way i can put it.
> 
> Enjoy!

_They were beating him again. In was an every-day fixture by now and he didn’t even know when now was. He guessed they had broken some of his ribs by now; breathing was getting a lot harder. They weren’t getting anywhere with breaking though. They must have started to realize that._

_They had him tied to a chair, ropes digging into his naked body and chaffing his skin but that was the least of his worries now. At first, he had wondered what was happening to Frederick; if he were in the same position as Dean. He had wondered what would happen to his friends’ corpses; if they would be desecrated or retrieved. He had stopped wondering now. Now he only cared about the pain inflicted on him._

_The door to the holding cell opened and a man walked in, carrying a cart with some sort of equipment and battery cables. The man left without saying a word and one of the two torturers dragged the cart closer to Dean’s chair. He took hold of two cables, snapping the one to each of Dean’s peck and the other to the machine._

_His torturer asked him something… something about a bomb? Dean didn’t really care. He had no idea what they were talking about. He could only squirm in his seat, dreading what they would to him this time._

_After Dean didn’t answer, his torturer switched the machine on and then proceeded to turn a valve. Dean was shocked—literally. His teeth clattered, his skin crawled and he couldn’t move. his hairs stood on end, turning into metal spikes sinked into his skin. His toes twisted and curled and then he couldn't hold it in anymore; he shouted. Brokenly and desperately, he shouted and tried to beg them to stop but his jaw wouldn't move. His whole body was burning and trying to shrink into itself but Dean had no power over it. He couldn’t even think. His heart was racing, beating way faster than it should and he pied himself, urine trickling down onto the wooden chair he was strapped on and between his legs._

_Just as he thought his heart was going to give out and maybe this would end, his torturer closed the valve and the electric currents shocking Dean’s frame subsided._

_“Please…please stop.” His mouth felt like cotton and his tongue hurt to move but he tried to beg nonetheless because that was the only things he could do._

_That only seemed to amuse his torturer though. The man grabbed another cable, this time approaching Dean lower body. Dean started mumbling and begging like a madman since he had a pretty clear idea of what was going to happen. He twisted around in his bindings, a futile attempt to get away. he had nowhere to to though and the man snapped the third cable onto his balls and turned the valve again._

_This time, Dean screamed with everything he had left in him. His teeth were now practically banging against each other, his heart was beating so fast he thought it was going to rip itself right out of his chest and he could only hear the sound of ringing. An astute, acidy ringing in his ears that just served to rile him up even more, causing him to thrash even though his ropes held him tightly in place._

_He didn’t how long his torturer had left it on this time but when he stopped it, Dean singly let his head fall between his shoulders and closed his eyes. His mouth tasted of copper—he had probably bitten his tongue—and every breath he took was physically painful. He was drooling a mix of blood and spit, covering his chest and thigh._

_After a few moments of reprieve, the man turned it on again. And off again. And on again—_

 

 

—Dean sprung awake on the bed, the sheets wet underneath him and his breathing way past ragged. Something had woken him up, he remembered as much.

  

A doorbell. Someone was at his door. He lifted himself off the mattress on shaky knees and tried to get his panic back under control. He’ worked the night shift at the station and decided he’d sleep through the morning. A quick glance at the clock showed it was only a little after two. He figured four hours of sleep would do fine.

 

The bell rang again and Dean hurried to the door after he had managed to make himself look at least a little presentable. “Coming.” He shouted form the hallway.

 

Opening the door, he was met with crystal blue eyes and he couldn’t help the slow smile spreading on his face. “Cas.”

 

“Hi Dean.” Cas shifted awkwardly. “I just thought I’d come by, see if you’re okay?” he looked shyly at Dean, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do that.

 

“Oh, yeah, come in.” he moved to the side so he could let Cas walk in. Which really wasn't wise on his part because he wasn't good for someone like Castiel anymore.

 

But Dean couldn't deny unexpected spurge of warmth run through him at Cas’s worrying. Once he’d brought himself to stand after his panic attack yesterday, he could tell that Cas wanted to drive him home, to make sure he didn’t sleep alone but he told him he’d be pulling a double. And Castiel made him feel protected... safe and it had been too long since Dean had been able to honestly claim he felt that way. So, he let Cas come in because he was too selfish to turn him away.

 

Dean recognized that little by little, the Cas he remembered was starting to come back and maybe he was bringing some of his old self back out in Dean. Dean wasn’t sure he wanted that though. He had been so careful, knowing that the tiniest thing could set him off. He had created a sensitive balance and he shouldn’t allow Cas to just wreck all that as if it were nothing. He was however in the habit of letting his walls down when it came to Cas.

 

But Cas hadn’t loved the person Dean was now. The now Dean was broken; filthy; maimed. Dean had done his best to put everything back together but he had resigned to completely abandon parts of him in the process. He knew that in order to let Cas back in, he’d have to break everything apart and why would Cas want him then? Why would he settle for a faint ghost of Dean’s former self? Cas deserved better than that.

 

He told himself this self-loathing would pass though, as it always did. It was just an inevitable result of his nightmares and panic attacks. He had learnt to live with and, granted, sometimes it got so bad he could barely drag himself out of bed but he always pulled through. After all, he had people counting on him now; his team, Sammy, the people he was often called to help.

 

 _“Yes but what happened yesterday, Dean?”_ the nasty voice inside his head demanded.

 

Yesterday he had gotten two innocent people killed in the raid and his teammate shot.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean abandoned the path of self-pity for the moment and brought himself back to the present. “Sorry. Drifting.” he tried to smile but he highly doubted he pull it off. he could still feel the cooling sweat on his skin, a faint reminder of the nightmare he was having before Cas had woken him. It was making him twitch and squirm instinctively and he knew it wouldn't be long before the compulsion to get clean kicked in. 

 

“You do that a lot—not that it’s bad.” Cas walked further into the apartment. “So, this is your house? It’s nice.”

 

“Thanks. How did you know where I live?” Dean asked, gesturing for Cas to follow him to the kitchen. After all, the guy had come all this was; turning him away would simply be rude, right? Right.

  

“Benny told me. I went by the station but they said you’d had the night shift?” Cas took a seat at the table. Momentarily, Dean was struck by how into place Cas seemed in his kitchen and he really didn’t want him to go.

 

Dean shook his head because he really didn't want to go down that road. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted to have the day off to sleep.” And go over everything that went wrong yesterday. Like Jax getting shot and reducing myself to a crying mess in your lap. Yeah, really shouldn’t have done that.

  

“Oh, shit! I woke you up, didn’t I?” Cas jumped up, as if noticing for the first time Dean’s pajamas. “I’ll go, I’m sorry.”

 

“Sit you ass down.” Dean said firmly, turning on the coffee maker because he didn't want to fall asleep again and he needed something to do with his hands. “It’s a good thing you rang the doorbell actually.” He murmured, glad that his back was turned to Cas. He had no idea why he’d even mentioned his nightmare… except for the fact Cas made him want to spill his guts out. Which was a testament in itself of how Dean should simply turn around right no and get as far away from him as he could.

 

“Another nightmare?” Cas didn’t miss a beat before asking. His tone was careful though, not prying and he managed to sound concerned. Dean wondered if he still was concerned after all these years.

 

“Yeah but it wasn’t too bad. I was able to come out of it pretty quickly. Usually it takes me a while.” And there he was again, spilling his guts out because his mind-to-mouth filter apparently started to malfunction whenever Castiel was around.

  

“How’s Gabriel?” Dean changed the subject quickly, before Cas could ask more about his dreams. Before Dean could let himself believe there was anything Castiel could do about them; about him.

  

If Cas was surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation he didn't let it on. “He had his first chemo yesterday was brought in. He’s mostly surprised that he can puke this much.” Cas chuckled. “I don’t think it’s hit him yet.” He finished soberly, clearly more affected but Gabriel's disease than he wanted to let on.

  

Dean came back to the table with two mugs and placed one in front of Cas. “Thanks.”

 

“The cancer hasn’t hit him, you mean?” Dean took a seat next to Cas, the feeling of Cas's body close to his much more comforting than he would have guessed. 

 

“The cancer, the fact that he may die, that he’s sick—I don’t know.” Cas sighed, his shoulders hunching. “I don’t know how to deal with this.” He admitted quietly.

 

“Gabriel being sick?” Dean asked softly, remembering how the deaths of his other family members had affected Dean.

 

When his mother had died, just before he and Dean met, Cas was a wreck. He simply wondered the school’s hallways, known as the mysterious rich kid who never talked to anyone. It had taken Cas years to recover from her death and just when he was starting to get better, to talk or go out, his sister Anna was hit by a car and his father got depressed… and life in general just wanted to make Cas its bitch.

 

But Gabriel wasn’t only one of Cas’s brothers; Gabriel was one of his best friends. After all, he was, contrary to the rest of his family, not a complete asshole.

 

“I’m a trauma surgeon.” Castiel said, in a way of explanation. “I see the problem and I fix it. Bleeding, bullet wound, amputation… I just to do it.” he admitted evenly. “But cancer… I just… I can’t see it, you know?” Cas looked up at him, exasperated. “They have him on the worst chemo and radiation regime there is. It’s the kind of drugs that make your body so weak your heart could stop from all the stress. And they still don’t know if they’ll be able to shrink all the tumors so they can operate.” He chuckled morbidly, running a hand though his already messy hair. “I sent him to the best oncologist I know and there is still a chance he won’t…” his voice trailed off but Dean had already understood what Cas was trying to say.

 

“You can’t save everyone.” He said softly.

 

Castiel snorted, his eyes suddenly taking a vicious glint. “I think we’ve established that.” his tone was cold; distant and Dean was reminded of how many years they’d been apart. Of how little he knew of Castiel now.

 

“Cas, I didn’t mean it like—”

 

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” He sighed before drinking some of his coffee. “A friend of mine keeps telling me that is all and I had forgotten how obvious I could be.” Castiel smiled fondly and Dean had to hide behind his coffee mug.

 

_Someone else is making him smile._

_Can you make him smile like that anymore?_

“Friend?” Dean made a conscious effort to keep his tone neutral. Cas’s expression wasn’t one that regarded a friend and the prospect that Cas had someone was terrifying him. Which was ridiculous since it wasn’t like Dean could have Cas so Cas might as well be happy.

 

“Yeah, we met when I was in the MSF.”

 

 “MSF?” Dean raised his eyebrows.

 

“Medicines Sans Frontiers.” Cas explained, surprising Dean.

 

“You were in the doctors without borders?”

 

Castiel looked away from Dean, a faint blush covering his cheeks. “Five years.” He said simply.

 

“Owo.” Dean breathed out. The Doctors Without Borders wasn’t just something you signed up for. It was commitment. It was putting your life on hold so you could help others. Dean really shouldn’t be surprised that Cas had signed up he supposed. “I remember you had mentioned it but…” _you were never serious about it because you didn’t want to leave me._

 

“Yeah, I mean, after you signed up and I got my degree and finished my internship I said the hell with it. I just volunteered and it was…” Cas smiled again, the smile reminiscent of memories; of happy memories. “I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

 

“I’m glad you got to that.” Dean said and he meant it, surprising even himself.

 

After everything that had happened, he had wished, so many times for things to have gone differently. For him to have never signed up out of some misguided longing for his father’s approval. For him to have been stronger and not turned his back on the man he loved.

 

But Castiel had been happy after Dean was gone so maybe things had turned out for the best. Because Cas had always deserved someone better. Someone who could love him without shame and who wasn’t maimed like Dean was.

 

“Me too.”  Cas agreed but there was a heaviness hanging from his words.

 

Dean could tell they were treading into dangerous ground and it was too soon to ask Cas to go because Dean felt too uncomfortable to be in the same room with him anymore so he opted for a change of pace. “Where did you go?” he asked, feigning excitement but with genuine interest. “With the MSF.”

 

“Oh, mostly in Africa… few months in Pakistan. Two full years in Uganda—which was where I met Crowley, the friend who sympathizes with your notion about my ability to save people.” Cas said it teasingly but it was like someone had splashed cold water on Dean’s face. Because Cas had a friend… who was a man and the mere thought of whom made him smile.

 

_Do you think he smiles when he thinks about you?_

“Is he… like, you know are you together?” Dean asked quickly, before he could think better of it. Part of him needed to know but another part was scared to find out. He really wanted for Cas to be happy but at the same time, he didn’t want him to be happy with someone else.

 

_But he can’t be happy with you either so why bother?_

“God no.” Castiel frowned, amused by the prospect apparently.

 

Dean was relieved but in the back of his mind, he knew there could be someone else and even though he was dying to ask, he didn’t want to shake their balance so he kept his mouth shut.

 

“He is my psychiatrist though… according to whom, I seem to be every emotionally constipated—or unavailable, which ever works.” He shrugged and Dean wondered if he was reading too much into this.

 

An uncomfortable silence settled between them because Cas was waiting for Dean to say something on the matter and Dean knew he was supposed to open his mouth and make some sort of an articulate reply but as things were, he could still pretend. He could still pretend he didn’t know who Cas was in love with now and he could still believe Cas hadn’t forgotten him.

 

“Do you…” Dean’s voice trailed off and his skin broke into a sweat.

 

Cas simple looked at him, the deep blue of his eyes calming Dean more than he’d like to admit. He smiled faintly, like he knew what Dean wanted to ask but he had decided not to help him, realizing Dean needed to ask the question himself.

 

“Do you have someone, Cas?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes away from Cas’s and glaring at the granite table.

 

“No.” Cas replied evenly, and Dean heard him moving his cup to the side and leaning on his elbows so he could get closer to Dean. “You?”

 

Dean swallowed anxiously because he had opened this door but he knew he shouldn’t go through it. He should just ask Cas to leave and Cas wouldn’t even hold it against him. Dean wasn’t any good for Cas anyways. He was used… used and damaged and way, way more work than he was worth.

 

But Cas just kept looking at him. With longing. With an expression that made Dean’s insides churn and flutter because no one had looked at him that way in a very long time. And part of Dean was desperate to hide, to run and lock himself inside the closet but another part just wanted Cas back.

 

Dean brought his eyes back to Cas’s and he was lost. He couldn’t even remember why he’d thought this had been a bad idea in the first place. He could only see blue and he could only feel ache.

 

Dean forgot about his inhibitions. He knew there were some but he couldn’t bring himself to care. They both moved forward simultaneously and with their faces inches apart, Dean could feel the ghost of Cas’s breath on his lips. It was comforting.

 

Cas moved his hand to cup Dan’s neck, dragging his nails over the sensitive skin on his nape and Dean allowed his eyes to flutter close. He was expecting it but he was still surprised when he felt the gentle press of Cas’s lips on his.

 

The kiss was oddly soft, far slower that Dean had predicted but it still served to make his stomach quiver. It started as a simple pressing of lips but soon, Dean parted his lips slightly and Castiel was eager to run his tongue around them, outlining and nibbling at Dean’s bottom lip before pushing inside. Cas tasted like home.

 

Dean’s heart was racing and he took a sharp inhale of breath. He had forgotten how good this could feel. They made him forget and that hurt more than any kind of torture they had inflicted on him.

 

The realization made him hungry. Hungry to remember and reclaim because they could gash out everything he had but they couldn’t ever take away his memories of Cas.

 

Dean broke away from the kiss only so he could move and straddle Cas’s lap, placing his hands firmly on the man’s shoulders to keep him there. To keep himself anchored; to remember this was Cas and Cas tangled his hands in Dean’s hair, bringing his mouth forward so he could ravish it. It seemed, after all these years, Cas still remembered Dean. He remembered the way he liked to be kissed and soon, he had Dean writhing with years of pent up yearning and denying.

 

Cas’s arms snaked around Dean’s waist, tightening and grounding Dean to him, while Dean’s hands cupped his jaw fiercely, smashing their mouths together. Castiel groaned and in the next thrust of his hips, his hardening cock found Dean’s and they both moaned around the kiss.

 

Dean ran his hands under Castiel’s jumper, fingers scratching at his stomach and Castiel, in turn, placed his hand on the exposed skin of Dean’s back. Cas’s fingers touched an array of scars just over Dean’s waistband and he involuntarily tensed all over.

 

Castiel quickly withdrew his hand but Dean had already pulled away and, as soon as Castiel’s hands left his body, he retreated to the far corner of the room.

 

This was exactly why this was a bad idea.

 

Dean saw Cas trying to figure out what happened and he could tell the man wanted to step closer but he was restraining himself. “I’m—”

 

“Don’t. It’s okay, Dean.” Cas smiled gently, like Dean hadn’t just ran away from him in panic. Dammit, he couldn’t even make out with Cas, how the hell was he supposed to have real sex with him? What was he thinking?

  

“Hey, stop that. I can practically hear your brain working.” Castiel said firmly and took a step closer to Dean. Dean hated the way that single step made his hairs stand up like his body thought Cas was a predator. Cas noticed it and even though he tried to hide it, Dean could still see he was hurt. “I’m sorry. I won’t come any closer.”

 

Right. Because Dean was about to have a panic attack. Actually, he was barely staving off the panic attack and Cas had barely touched him. God, what the fuck was wrong with him?

 

“Dean! Please stop doing that. Once you feel better we can talk about everything but don’t put this pressure on yourself right now, okay?” Cas sounded desperate; desperate for Dean’s sake.

 

Dean nodded, trying to follow Cas’s advice but his mind was already spinning. He let his knees give out and he fell to the floor, hugging his arms around his knees. He was a failure. How could Cas stand him?

 

“Do you want me to leave Dean?” He heard Cas’s voice but it was like he was far away.

 

He tried to shake his head ‘no’ hoping Cas would understand. He was selfish; he knew he didn’t deserve Cas but nonetheless he wanted to keep him here. So he wasn’t alone. He was tired of being alone and scared.

 

“Okay, I’m going to come closer now, is that okay?” Dean thought Cas was probably moving but he didn’t dare move his eyes form the invisible spot on the floor. “I’m going to put my hand on yours now.” He said after what seemed like hours but was probably just minutes.

 

Oddly enough, Dean didn’t flinch when he felt Cas’s hand on his. Instead, he found himself relaxing, his hands untangling so he could grasp Cas’s and pull him closer. He should be embarrassed but he couldn’t bring himself to care about his dignity anymore.

 

Suddenly, Dean’s eyes shot up from the floor and glued themselves onto Cas’s. Cas’s eyes that held only worry and softness and love; that weren’t mad at him and didn’t think he was ruined. Cas loved him.

 

Cas loved him but he didn’t know what _him_ was. He knew Dean when he was whole, before they had managed to get their hands on him.

 

But this was it. This was his second chance— _their_ second chance. They’d fucked it up once and Dean would be damned if he’d let it happen all over again. It was unfair that the men who tortured him had taken away pieces of him but he had Cas in front of him now. And Cas made it possible to think that maybe he could find those pieces again.

 

He threw his arms around Cas, who almost fell back with the force of Dean’s sudden movement, and rubbed his nose on Cas’s neck. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, refusing to hold it in any longer. “I’m so, so sorry. I… I love you and I’m sorry.” He admitted.

 

Cas tensed at the sound of those words but eventually he hugged Dean tighter and placed a kiss on his temple and Dean felt cherished, he realized in wonder. “I love you too Dean. Always.”

 

It was like a dam broke inside Dean. Because Cas loved him. He still loved him. he hadn’t seen what was left of Dean now but he loved him and maybe Dean should get away. But he had been away for long enough.

 

So Dean kept his arms around Cas and they stayed like that until Dean’s knees were sore from the hard floor and they had to pull away. When Cas looked back at Dean, his eyes were wet and Dean had left a stain on Cas’s shirt. “Cas?”

 

“Yeah Dean? What do you need?”

 

“Can we… can we do the thing we did at the hospital?” he asked hesitantly, still feeling the remnants of his panic attack.

 

“Of course.” Cas smiled and moved against the corner eagerly. Dean settled between Cas’s legs and sighed when Cas pulled his tightly against his chest.

 

Neither of them spoke, settling for idle touches and caresses instead. Dean realized how safe he felt right here, in Cas’s arms and he borrowed closer to the heat of his embrace. He still had things he needed to tell Cas but they could wait; for now, he was content.

 

“Dean? Are you asleep?” Cas’s voice roused him

 

“Little bit.” He mumbled, unwilling to fully part with his drowsy self.

 

He could hear the vibrations of Cas’s chest against his shoulders as the man chuckled. “Do you wanna move to the bed, sleeping beauty?”

 

“We should. Will you stay?” he asked before he could stop himself.

 

“If you want me to.” Cas sounded surprised and Dean couldn’t blame him because they were making out and he’d just had a panic attack but he also sounded excited.

 

“I want you to.” Dean forced his eyes open and started getting up form Cas’s lap.

 

“Then I’ll stay.” Dean extended his arm and helped Cas get up, leading the way to his bedroom.

 

When they got inside, Dean saw Cas nod to himself. The blinders were all closed and Dean moved to the bed to pull the covers over the sheets. He asked Cas if he wanted some pajamas but he refused, settling for taking off his shoes. Dean went to the bed first and lied down, patting the space next to him. They settled as they had so many times before with Cas on his back and Dean half draped over him on his side.

 

Dean hadn’t realized just how sleepy he was until he found himself encased in Cas’s warmth with the steady beat of Cas’s heart underneath him.

 

“Sleep, Dean.” Cas muttered into Dean’s hair and Dean listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it and if you would like to, please comment about what you think of this so far... :)


	7. You Can't Handle the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tells Cas more about what happened to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed the rating to explicit just to be on the safe side

_Dean was thirsty. His mouth felt like the Sahara dessert and his throat like it had been ripped from the inside. They hadn’t given him any water for the past—who was he kidding? He couldn’t even tell periods of time._

_He pushed himself further into his corner; it was disgusting how he found this place—his corner—safe. The room they kept him in when they weren’t torturing him was ridiculously small, or at least that’s what he’d thought when he had first seen it. The ceiling—if it even was a ceiling—was too low for him to stand up straight so he continuously had to sit on the floor. The floor was too narrow to lie down on and stretch his body so he had to curl in on himself and there were no windows, no light; just cement and darkness._

_Yet, somehow, his room had started to feel big. He felt too exposed now so he wrapped his arms around his knees and forced his body into a ball. The cement wall behind him wasn’t smooth and it jabbed at his still oozing wounds but the thought of pulling away from it scared him._

_He chuckled to himself, instantly tensing at how loud it sounded in his confined shelter. They had succeeded. They had turned him into their pet. He didn’t even dare show any disobedience._

_His door was thrown open and he rushed out, knowing what would ensue if he wasted their time. The man who he had come to think of as_ his _torturer started giving instructions in Arabic to the other two soldiers. Dean was completely unresponsive as they grabbed his arms, tying his chaffed wrists together, and bound the rope to a hook hanging from the ceiling by a metal chain. They proceeded to tie his ankles together as well, minimizing his range of movement._

_This wasn’t so bad, Dean thought. He had learnt to play at this game and could stay like this, arms extended over his head and toes barely touching the floor, for a few hours at least._

_He knew that wasn’t the end of it, though. His torturer wouldn’t have brought two of his lackeys with him just so he could hang him from the roof and ogle at him._

_And he was right._

_His torturer reeled in his favorite toy, the ECT machine and the lackeys stepped away from Dean, standing obediently at either side of the exit. Making sure he didn’t escape? Yeah, right! Thoughts of an escape were long gone by now._

_The chain holding Dean up was adjustable and his torturer started turning a grinding wheel, pulling Dean higher but still low enough that he could hold himself up with the tips of his tows. Adjusting another wheel, he turned Dean clockwise so he was facing away from him and his toy._

_Dean could feel him getting closer and he willed his body not to tense up. He heard the telltale of the ECT machine being turned on but he didn’t feel any clamps on his back. His torturer started running rough palms up and down Dean’s sides and back and this time, Dean couldn’t stop the his body going stiff._

_The guy mumbled something again and one of the lackeys moved from the door to behind Dean. There was a hiss from his torturer that sounded suspiciously like excitement and then Dean’s asscheeks were being spread just before he felt something pushing against his hole._

_“No, no, no… please stop.” He whined, thrashing around in his bonds in a futile attempt to get away from the intrusion. Because they hadn’t anything like this before. Because Dean hadn’t thought they would._

_His torturer wasn’t having any of that, though. He called his other lackey over, who got on his knees at Dean’s side and wrapped one arm over Dean’s stomach and the other over his knees, immobilizing him._

_His torturer laughed viciously and Dean willed his muscles to clench together, thinking he had to have some short of control over this._

_He realized he was terribly wrong._

_The lackey just spread Dean’s cheeks further and his torturer shoved the object inside Dean in one forceful thrust. Dean cried out in pain at the absence of lube as he felt his insides rip._

At least the blood will ease the way _, he thought gravely, tears streaking his filthy face._

_He grimly realized this was the only he had to himself. Now they were taking this as well. The pain of his insides being torn didn’t come close to the resentment he felt at himself right now. Because while his torturer persistently shoved the stick deeper and deeper, Dean could only think of Cas._

_And the torturer was just relentless, pushing the rod deeper inside him, not allowing for any reprieve between the vicious thrusts. He felt the lackeys as well as their boss step away from him just before he was jostled with violent electric shocks, originating from inside him._

_Dean cried and lashed out but as long as electricity ran through him, his muscles just wouldn’t comply. So Dean screamed and screamed and begged until finally they turned it off and he could breathe again._

_“You’re my little bitch now, no?” the tortured hissed in Dean’s ear, his breath causing the skin to tingle._

_Dean just laid there, letting the hook take his entire weight. The torturer was waiting for an answer though. When he didn’t get one, he violently pulled the rod out of Dean only to shove it back in and it hurt worse this time if that was even possible._

_Dean whimpered, snot and drool and tears and blood running down his face and to his carved and marked chest._

_“Bitch!” he pulled it out and forced it back in, each time tearing Dean even more. “Aren’t you?”_

_Dean nodded, defeated, a tingling sensation spreading between his thighs. He recognized it was the blood flooding out of his ass. “Yes… yes, please…” he begged brokenly. He didn’t even know what he was begging for._

_“You’re so beautiful like this.” He started thrusting the rod in and out of Dean’s ass in fast, hard jabs. “Tell me how much you like it bitch.” He whispered filthily._

_“I—” Dean’s voice broke with a sob. “I like it.”_

_“Say it! Say what a bitch you are!”_

_  
“I’m a bitch… I’m a whore… I like it.” Dean cried, his resolve frenziedly breaking down. “Please, please just stop it—_

—please.”

 

Someone was shaking him. He was lying down. Why was he lying down? He was vertical a few seconds ago. He tried opening his eyes but his body wouldn’t comply.

 

_Don’t let them see, Dean._

_See what?_

_How dirty you are. How they made you their bitch. How you would beg for it._

_Dirty_

_Bitch_

_Whore_

Dean gasped, his limbs thrashing around him until he fell to a hard surface. His eyes sprung open but he didn’t recognize where he was. He needed to go home. He needed his room. He wanted to curl against the wall with darkness all around him but that was the only thing familiar enough _and how sick was that?_

He was hyperventilating; his breath was getting faster and shorter and he could feel his heart all the way to his head.

 

“Dean!” He could hear someone calling his name but it was so far away. What the hell was happening to him?

 

Someone grabbed his shoulder and he wanted to push them away, he really did and he was about to but he looked up and saw blue eyes and they just looked _so_ familiar.

 

“Dean.” The voice was closer this time. Dean forced his eyes to move and saw the voice belonged to the man with the blue eyes.

 

 _Cas._ “Cas?” Dean gasped for air, his lungs unwilling to work on their own.

 

“You are Dean Winchester, you are in Chicago Illinois and you are safe.” Cas blurted out and Dean knew he was supposed to do something with that but his cognitive functions were suffering a tad bit at the moment. “Say it with me, Dean. Come on.”

 

“I am—” his breath was coming too fast for this to work.

 

“Dean, I know it is hard but try it with me.” Cas looked at him with such hopeful, glimmering eyes that held comfort and familiarity and Dean was able to ground himself to them.

 

Suddenly he knew where he was and he was still heaving but he knew it would pass. “I am Dean Winchester—” panting. “I am in Chicago Illinois and—” deep breath. “I’m…”

 

“Again.”

 

“I am Dean Winchester, I am in Chicago Illinois and I’m safe.” And the pressure around his airways seized and he could breathe again.

 

Things were starting to come back to him. He gained recollection of his surroundings, realizing he was sitting on his bedroom floor and was literally, sweating through his clothes. And Castiel was sitting in front of him—at a respectable distance of course, which Dean appreciated—and he must be freaking out.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Cas.” He apologized hurriedly because he felt that was what he should do. Because he was used. Because he was making Cas filthy. Because he had dragged Cas into that hellhole with him.

 

Castiel puffed out a breath, relieved and smiled. “Oh, god. You scared the living hell out of me.” He turned so he was sitting with his back against the foot of the bed, next to Dean.

 

“I’m sorry. I…I.” Dean said quickly and tried to stand up only to lose his balance and fall on the floor had it not been for Castiel instantly coming to his side to help hold him up.

 

“Dean, take a breath.” Cas tried to caress his back as he supported him but Dean shivered and Cas quickly pulled his hand away after placing Dean gingerly on the bed. “You don’t have to apologize. Tell me what is wrong.” It wasn’t a question but Cas left Dean with plenty of room to argue.

 

“I… I need to take a shower.” Dean tried standing up again and this time he managed to reach the bathroom door in his room without falling over. “And then we need to talk, okay?” he closed the door before he could hear Cas’s reply. Before he could lose his nerve or run away.

 

Dean all but ripped his clothes off before jumping into the shower. The water was too hot, leaving his skin pink and raw but he didn’t care. He started rubbing furiously, going over his entire body at least three times before stopping to take a breath. He closed his eyes and brought the washcloth between his asscheeks where he scrubbed relentlessly until the water pressure made him squirm.

 

He got out and pulled a towel around his hips before throwing the used washcloth in the trash. His bedroom was empty but Dean could still hear Cas in the kitchen. He put on some clothes and towel dried his hair before joining Cas, all the while trying to keep his mind from drifting back to the nightmare he’d just had.

 

He found Cas over the sink the sink, busy with washing the dishes, something Dean knew Cas did whenever he was nervous. He leaned against the doorway for a minute, observing Cas’s movements and trying to come up with something to say. Maybe: ‘hey I was raped repeatedly and now I can’t bear the thought of sex’? Or perhaps ‘hey, they tore me up so much that you can actually still feel it with your fingers’? Yeah, his options were limited.

 

Dean settled for clearing his throat, causing Cas to jump up with soap studs exploding all over the place.

 

“Jesus! Give a guy a warning?” Cas turned the water off and dried his hands, taking his previous seat at the table.

 

Dean joined him, his nails anxiously scratching at his palms. “Look, I need to tell you some things… about what happened to me when I… when I was called back to Iraq.”

 

“Dean, whatever you say, I love you, okay?” the worst part was, Cas actually believed that. He believed that there was nothing Dean could say that would make him repulsed or disgusted.

 

And Dean wished he could still believe that. He remembered there was a time when he truly thought nothing would be enough to break them apart. Only he knew better now because as it turned out, his father dying was just that. Nevertheless, he nodded, gearing himself up for the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life.

 

“I… on my second tour. That’s when it happened.” He swallowed back bile. “We were getting back to the Base from a scouting charge and a team of Iraqi Nationalists, they ambushed us. They killed most of my unit but me and another guy they took hostage.” He felt his voice as well as his resolve wilting but he forced himself to continue. Castiel deserved to know in what kind of mess he was getting into. “They kept us for thirteen months—until American soldiers raided their basecamp and they found us.”

 

Dean’s mind trailed off to the memory of how the American soldiers had pretty much killed everyone in the camp and taken the rest for interrogation. When a soldier had opened the door to his cage-like room they had to drag him out since he was too scared to move his own muscles. They had wrapped him in a blanket but Dean knew they’d seen the blood oozing out of his ass and his bloodied dick. Dean shivered violently thinking back on the shame and humiliation; on the dried tears and snot that were perpetually crusted over his face then. Sometimes he had to scratch at his cheeks just to make sure there was nothing there anymore.

 

“Dean? You’re here now. I’m with you.” Cas said steadily, confidently as he moved his chair closer to Dean’s. Because he didn’t know. Because if he did know, he wouldn’t even dream to come close to Dean; to touch him; to love him.

 

“The other guy they had taken, he killed himself last year.” Dean’s entire body was shaking by now and he thought he wouldn’t be able to come clean about everything—which was a tempting thought. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten to the bad part and he was already freaking out.

 

Cas noticed it of course and stood up, taking Dean’s hand and walking them over to the corner where they had been sitting a few hours ago. They arranged themselves as they were and Dean was surprised that Cas’s touch didn’t repulse him right now. He borrowed further into his arms, greedily dying to take in as much as he could before Cas pushed him away.

 

“They tortured me. For thirteen months they tortured me—god, you have no idea how much they…” A vicious trembling shook his fame but Castiel’s hands were quickly chasing it away. “They made me filthy.” Dean finally whispered, fighting the compulsive need to take a shower.

 

 _You let them make you filthy,_ the nasty voice whispered again and today, Dean agreed. There were days, where he felt much braver, much better and he would tell the voice to shut up but not today. Today he had let them make him filthy; disgusting; their bitch.

 

“You’re not filthy. You’re clean. I can smell soap and clothes’ detergent.” Cas reasoned with him rather than simply telling him it was all in his head.

 

“They used an ECT machine.” Dean mumbled hurriedly. Here, in the space of Castiel’s arms it was so much easier to admit what had happened to him.

 

“Electroconvulsive shock therapy?” Castiel sounded surprised but Dean supposed Castiel wasn’t used to hearing this sort of confessions every day.

 

“Well, not therapy. They snapped battery cables on…” Dean’s voice broke. “Everywhere. And then they turned it on.” Castiel kissed his hair, conveying his support. “They scarred and burnt me and stabbed their way through my skin while asking me all these stupid questions which I had no idea how to answer.” Dean was turning hysterical as he thought back on those months. How helpless he’d felt; how lonely and depraved every time they told him to beg for it.

 

“Shhh, just take a minute. You’re here now.” Cas murmured patiently and Dean knew him. Knew what kind of person Cas was and this wasn’t reasonable but he couldn’t help thinking that as soon as Cas learnt the whole truth, he would jump away from Dean and run to his house.

 

But he had started now and everything he had desperately tried to keep hidden just raced to the surface. “And that’s not even the worst part. If I knew what the fuck they were talking about I would have told them. I would have told them everything.” Dean had never admitted that before. Not even—especially not—to the psychiatrist that was appointed to him by the VA. He was afraid of what they would all say but… Cas wouldn’t judge him.

 

_Are you sure about that? You’ve done some pretty nasty things._

 

“That was the point, Dean. That was their purpose and it doesn’t make you any less of a man… or a victim or a survivor.”

 

_Victim._

_You don’t deserve to be seen as that._

“I’m not a victim, Castiel.” Dean whispered soberly. “ _I_ signed up for the war. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

 

“And did you sign up to be tortured too? To be assaulted in such gruesome ways that sometimes even a simple touch would revolt you? Did you ask for _that_?” Cas sounded infuriated, like he couldn’t bear the thought that Dean actually believed that. “Nobody asks for that Dean.” He said quietly, his arms tightening around Dean’s frame.

 

“I don’t think blaming myself will ever go away Cas.” Dean admitted.

 

Cas sighed but he smiled as well. “And I’ll just keep trying then.”

 

Dean swallowed audibly, his eyes focusing on the cupboards across form him. This was the most difficult part but he had gotten his far, right? Right? He wont push you away. Right? Because he loves you.

 

Dean breathed in a shaky breath, his body involuntarily tensing as in expectation for Cas’s inevitable rejection. “When they were holding me, for the last four months or so—I’m not too sure of the timeline—they would…” he cleared his throat, trying to get the words out. “They sexually abused me. Repeatedly and violently.” He confessed and his breathing was starting to get ragged.

 

Dean couldn’t look at Cas; he didn’t want to see revulsion form the man he loved. Cas was good and kind and loving but even he had to have some limits. And Dean wouldn’t blame Cas if his limits lied right about two blocks south of even coming close to rape.

 

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” Cas actually sounded hurt. He continued to rub at Dean’s back but Dean could feel Cas’s hands shaking. The gesture, instead of soothing him, only managed to rile him up more because Dean couldn’t help thinking of what he’d lose. He had truly forgotten what it was like to be touched; touched by someone you loved and not with the intention of bringing agony.

 

“This is your out card. This right here is me giving you a chance to leave.” He said quietly, bracing himself for Cas’s departure.

 

Cas’s hands seized and went to Dean’s chin turning him so he couldn’t look away form Cas’s eyes. There was a certainty there; a short of confidence Dean had forgotten about. He supposed he had forgotten about a lot of things.

 

“I am not going anywhere. I told you I love you, Dean.” Cas said with finality while his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I hate that you were hurt but I’m not disgusted or appalled nor do I think it was in any way your fault.”

 

Pure conviction. That was Cas’s voice. Dean had accepted he’d never be completely free of his demons. A part of him would always look back on what happened and try to pin it on himself. Hearing at Cas though, Dean thought maybe, just maybe he could believe him. and he wanted to… he wanted to believe Cas more than anything.

 

But he couldn’t right now, because right now, the nasty voice was still ringing in his ears but he thought he could try; he could try believing tomorrow. “Thank you.” He whispered, turning to place a kiss on Cas’s lips. Cas didn’t push for more and Dean was grateful because he couldn’t give it; not right now. “Ever since I’ve been back, I’ve only managed to… to cum about a handful of times and I… whenever I get hard I feel the urge to puke.” Dean confessed because even though he was afraid of Cas’s reaction, he couldn’t knowingly mislead him.

 

Cas’s eyes softened and one of his hands started rubbing idly at Dean’s back. “Dean, I won’t ever push for more than you’re willing to give me.” Cas said honestly, with such clarity that it was impossible for Dean not to trust him.

 

“But what if all I’m ever able to give is kissing?” he asked quietly. “And not even proper kissing, I mean I move away before it even turns to anything.” While part of him feared the answer, he still had to know.

 

“Then I’ll take the kissing.” Cas answered as if it were a no-brainer. “During the entire time we’ve been apart I’ve tried three relationships. All three of them said I was emotionally unavailable, Dean. That I was constantly comparing them to someone else. I love you Dean. We fucked it up once; let’s not do it again.” His voice turned pleading at the end and Dean thought, maybe Cas hadn’t been completely satisfied while they had been apart.

 

“What if the person I am now isn’t the person you fell in love with?”

 

Cas sighed, measuring his words. “I can see why you’d think that. You’ve changed, I see that but… you’re still you. You’re still the Dean to tries to act all tough while you’re really just gooey on the inside. You’re the Dean that helped stand up to my family for what I wanted. You’re the one who made me find myself and not look away, Dean. You’re still that person.”

 

“Cas… when they…” Cas took hold of his hand and gave him a squeeze. “They would violate me. With objects and I kept thinking, ‘how can it hurt this bad?’. I loved what we did together, I was begging for it sometimes and then _that_ happened and now I can’t even think about touching you—touching myself—without losing my shit.” Dean could feel blood rushing to his face but it wasn’t nearly as difficult as the last time he had tried to admit to it to the VA psychiatrist. But then again, maybe Cas was just what was making it easier.

 

“And that’s okay. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Together; I’ll help you through it and we’ll deal with it.” Cas kissed his cheek. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

 

“Nothing fazes you!” Dean snapped, part of him wanting Cas to throw him off his lap in disgust. Part of him thinking it would be easier for Cas to simply use him.

 

Cas simply chuckled, his hand now caressing Dean’s calf. “Do you want something to faze me?” he raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence.

 

“Oh, fuck you!” Dean let out with no real strength behind the words, feeling surprisingly litgher.

 

“I love you, too Dean.” Cas smiled, leaning in to press a kiss against Dean’s lips.

 

Dean pressed back, trying to deepen it but he had to remind himself that things had changed. He couldn’t sill do whatever he wanted the instant he felt Cas’s lips against him and he would have to learn to live with that. Maybe with time, he’d get to take that back; kissing and making out without having to worry about a panic attack. So what if this time wasn’t it? He had Cas and they could work towards it together; they could have a lot of practice.

 

“What are you smiling at?” Cas pulled up, feeling dean’s lips curl into a smile.

 

“I just realized, we can have a lot of practice in kissing until we can do anything else.” Dean hadn’t expected that to make him so giddy but Cas was a really good kisser.

 

Cas laughed, liking the idea as well. “Indeed we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do comment if you liked it :)


	8. Sympathy For the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets some advice on his and dean's relationship and an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any actual knowledge of psychology so everything depicted in this chapter and the work in general i thanks to google or e-books or my imagination and i hope it sounds realistic but you can only get do far with the internet.

Cas sat in the waiting room, flipping through a bridal magazine. He was just reading through an article on how to choose the proper wedding dress when his friend opened his office door to escort his latest client out.

 

“Castiel, punctual as always I see.” Crowley gestured for him to come in and closed the door behind them. As always Crowley was impeccably dressed, black three-piece suit matched with a black shirt and a black tie.  Cas didn’t know which was more Goth, the man’s suit or his black and red office.

 

“Hello, Crowley.” Cas smiled, genuinely happy to see the man after so long.

 

They hugged briefly, neither of them too fond of the physical contact even considering their time together. They’d met when Cas was in Uganda with the MSF, Crowley a few years older than him. They’d stayed in the same mission group for two yeas but Crowley decided he’d had enough. He returned to the US and switched fields of expertize, changing his career as a trauma surgeon for a career in psychology.

 

After Dean told him about his time in Iraq, Cas decided to call up Crowley, thinking the man may be able to give him an insight into all of this. Truth was, really, that even though Cas tried his best to come off as confident to Dean, he was actually scared shitless of saying the wrong thing and fucking him up. In the one week since they’d kissed for the first time Dean hadn’t said anything further on his captivity but Cas could see him getting more and more frustrated every time they had to stop. He knew eventually they would need to talk more about it, about what happened to Dean and he wanted—he needed—to be prepared.

 

“So, what can I do for you?” Crowley took a seat in one of the armchairs and pointed to the other one. “You said this wasn’t about you?”

 

“Yes. “ Cas cleared his throat, sitting down and putting his elbows on his knees to lean forward. “I need your advice.”

 

“Well fire away then.” Crowley brought his ankle over his knee and got comfortable in the chair. Cas was glad he was awarded with his friend’s complete attention, knowing how difficult it was for him to actually sympathize with his patients. He sometimes wondered if that was why Crowley was so successful in this field.

 

“I need to know about Stockholm Syndrome, aftermath of long term captivity and sexual abuse, ways to deal with it, PTSD… just everything.” Cas said quickly. He had decided he wasn’t going to tell Crowley about what had happened to Dean because that would be betraying his trust so he purposefully remained vague.

 

If Crowley was surprised it was only for a minute before he cleared his throat and his expression turned serious. Crowley specialized in cases of PTSD and Cas already knew many of his patients were victims of war crimes, which too was on of the reasons he had chosen to come here in the first place.

 

“That’s serious stuff.” Crowley narrowed his eyes, frowning as if he tried to remember something. “Is this about… uhm, Dan?”

 

Cas shouldn’t be taken aback that Crowley had put two and two together. The man was smart and he knew about Dean and the way he and Cas had parted. “It’s Dean…and yes but you understand I can’t be specific.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Crowley agreed hurriedly, knowing first hand the importance of privacy. “I’ll spare you the theoretical stuff—we’ve taken the same preliminary courses in med school so you know.” He waited for Castiel’s nod. “I suppose that you’ll keep the details to yourself so I won’t be able to give you precise advice. I could give you some books though” Crowley frowned, thoughtful. “But if you want my actual advice you’re gonna have to give me _something_.”

 

“Okay.” Castiel agreed. “I think disgust… when it comes to sex?” _when it comes to himself._ But Castiel didn’t have to elaborate; Crowley had been doing this long enough to know.

 

“Hmm.” Crowley pursed his lips. “That is actually pretty common. In cases of long-term sexual abuse it often stems from the victim knowing the acts being done to them are wrong and when they take place continuously this sense of wrongness starts inhibiting in their subconscious.”

 

“Yeah, that’s all wonderful theory.” Cas felt helpless when it came do Dean’s abuse; he had no idea how to help him through it and seeing Dean push himself harder and harder didn’t make it better.

 

Crowley smirked, using his hand to straighten some invisible creases in his jacket. “You’re right. Let me give you paint you a picture; I make you enjoy something and then, for example, I beat you ruthlessly because you’re enjoying it. What happens?”

 

“I associate that something or the enjoyment of it with… something bad, something that deserves to be beaten out of me?” Castiel narrowed his eyes, trying to see Dean in Crowley’s picture.

 

“Exactly.” Crowley stood up and walked to his library to shift through the various book filled shelves. “Now add to that that you know you shouldn’t be enjoying it in the first place. Try to imagine the internal struggle.” He pulled two books out and carried them to Castiel.

 

“I get your point.” Cas nodded, taking hold of the books. One of them was about PTSD and the other about psychological effects of captivity.

 

“And it gets worse. See, then you’re free and you return to normal life. Big part of this life is having an intimate and sexual relationship but how are you supposed to that when you become disgusted with your own arousal?”

 

Cas realized everything Crowley was trying to get accords to him could apply directly to Dean. “You’ve dealt with this before.”

 

Crowley snorted, some of his arrogance showing through. “More times than you’ll know. It is extremely common in cases of sexual abuse where the victim is male since triggering arousal can be particularly easy.” The man might be conceited but he was probably one of the best psychiatrists Cas had ever met.

 

“That actually makes a lot of very sick sense.” Cas admitted. “Now how do I… help with that?”

 

“You’re going to be disappointed but actually, it takes time. In these cases, the victim needs to come to terms with their sexuality again. Now tell me something Castiel, what is your current relationship with Dean like?”

 

“Uhm… we kiss a lot?” Cas shifted uncomfortably. This was starting to feel a lot like therapy and he preferred to know beforehand when he and Crowley would engage in therapy sessions.

 

“Don’t worry; if I’m psychoanalyzing you you’ll know it.” He assured Castiel as if he had read his thoughts. “But, as for the kissing… it is very interesting. I’d think the biggest struggle—wait, when you said sexual abuse, were you referring to acts that could, in different contexts be considered homosexual?” Cas nodded. “In that event I would think the biggest struggle for Dean would be accepting his homosexuality.” Crowley frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

 

“Actually, I thought about that as well but he seems alright with it. He struggled a lot with acceptance when we were younger. He actually said that something we did together and he loved, they turned bad.” Castiel confessed because as much as he wanted to protect Dean’s privacy, he didn’t want to screw him up in the future with something that could be avoided.

 

“Well then, as far as his acceptance goes, you’re already at an advantage but as for the other thing… in time, you will need to show him—to prove to him—that it can still feel good and that ultimately, feeling good isn’t bad.”

 

“You make it sound very easy.” Cas snorted, somewhat exasperated and if _he_ felt exasperated _now_ , he couldn’t even being to understand how exasperated Dean felt every time he had to move away from Cas.

 

“I know.” Crowley nodded in understanding. “How are _you_ doing Castiel?”

 

“That sounds very, very psychoanalytical.” Cas countered, instinctively turning a little defensive because he could tell where this was heading.

 

Crowley rolled his eyes but didn’t try to correct him. “I’m just trying to figure out if this is something you want. It won’t be easy, Castiel. Relationships like these, they can consume you—I see it everyday in this office. Are you sure you ant to do this?”

 

“Do you remember when we were setting up camp in Pakistan?” Crowley nodded. “That was when I told you about Dean, about his being just one country over, just across the border. I’ve lost him once Crowley and this thing, this feels like our second chance so if it means it will be consuming to me—if this is the price we have to pay—then I’m completely okay with that. I just can’t bear to see him in so much hurt anymore.” Because even though Cas didn’t completely understand it, what he wanted most was to comfort Dean. He still found him unbelievably hot though and not attacking Dean when he walked into the room like he used to had turned out to be quite the struggle for Castiel. But he wouldn’t jeopardize the tentative balance they had reached thus far no matter how much pent up desire he felt. This was bigger than Cas’s wanting to spread Dean out on a bed and ravish him; this was them finding their way back together.

 

Crowley regarded him thoughtfully for a few minutes and Castiel could tell the man wanted to say something but Castiel must have convinced him because he managed to keep his mouth shut—and he hardly ever did that. “That’s good but… try to remember it’s not your fault alright?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Somewhere down the line, you’ll feel like his pain is your fault, like if you hadn’t jumped back into his life he wouldn’t be forced to relive everything. Or even, you might feel like the mere fact that this happened to him is your fault. When that happens, try and remember it’s not true.” Out of nowhere, Crowley sounded uncharacteristically sentimental, more so than Castiel had even seen him before.

 

Cas was struck speechless at first, not expecting Crowley to display such emotion all at once. In the end, he managed to nod his appreciation because he appreciated the man’s concern. “And how are you doing? I mean, I know your career is taking off but how about you?” he changed the subject, opting for something more cheery.

 

“Eh, you know… same old.”

 

Cas snorted, unwilling to take that as an answer. “You know, I may not be a psychiatrist but even I can tell that’s a load of crap.”

 

“Screw you!” Crowley let out with no real menace. “I guess you could say my personal life has been… suffering.”

 

“Do you want to set you up with somebody?” Castiel asked enthusiastically, already working over possible matches in his head.

 

“Absolutely not!” Crowley flinched as if in fear. “Do you remember the last woman you set me up with? She was a lunatic!”

 

Cas rolled his eyes nonchalantly. “She was not hat bad.”

 

Crowley glared at him through wide-open eyes and Castiel could barely contain his laugh. “Yeah Castiel, that’s it. I’m being supportive and helpful and you’re laughing at the woman who tried to rape me.”

 

“She didn’t try to rape you… she just had an overeager sex drive.”

 

“Four times. Four times in barely two hours! I was sore.”

 

At that Castiel broke down laughing unable to hold it off any longer. “I promise, this time I will find someone more timid.” He tried to some as sincere but he honestly doubted it worked.

 

“No! You will find the door because I have another client in ten minutes and after you reminded me of my most traumatizing date, I need some time to get back into my proper mindset.”

 

Castiel left Crowley’s office laughing, feeling a lot more confident about his not screwing everything up with Dean.

 

*****

 

By the time Cas drove back to his house, the sky outside was dark and the air chilly. He parked his car in the driveway and squinted his eyes at the two figures he saw standing at his doorstep, leaning toward each other like they were talking. He tried to remember if he had made any plans that might have slipped his mind but he couldn’t come up with anything and he didn’t anyone would be visiting him at this time for no good reason.

 

After a few moments of consideration, he shrugged and got out of his car. Halfway to the door, he realized the figures were his brothers, Lucifer and Michael, which, admittedly, was even weirder than two complete strangers standing there.

 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, making an effort to not sound too hostile or surprised. Judging my Lucifer’s eyeroll, he supposed he hadn’t been too successful.

 

“What we can’t visit our brother?” Michael inquired immediately, turning around so he was facing Castiel while holding a huge wrapped box in his arms.

 

“You’ve never visited me.” Cas pointed out but he was starting to get cold so he moved between them and unlocked the door.

 

Both Lucifer and Michael rushed inside and Castiel wondered for a minute how long they had been standing outside, waiting for him.

 

“Well, it’s better late than never.” Michael argued, smiling uncomfortably. “This is for you.” he shoved the box in Castiel’s arms, making him stagger backwards.

 

“What is it?” Castiel asked suspiciously as he made his way to the kitchen where he put it on the table.

 

“It’s Mr. Mixer. It’s a housewarming gift.”

 

Castiel actually raised one eyebrow at that because he had never imagined those words coming out of his Michael’s mouth. Then again he had never imagined Lucifer and Michael visiting him willingly and on their own accord so he supposed this night is a night of firsts.

 

“Mr. Mixer.” He repeated, still trying to wrap his head around Mr. Mixer and what was going on.

 

“It’s a mixer, Cassie.” Lucifer quipped, his tone implying he didn’t think much of Cas’s intelligence.

 

Castiel snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know what it is Lucifer.” He said with a tight smile, letting his irritation show and noticed Michael jab Lucifer with his elbow while trying to look as if noting was happening. Which was just making the situation even stranger.

 

“I didn’t even say anything!” Lucifer hissed at Michael between his teeth.

 

“What the hell is going on between you two?” Castiel demanded, more than a little curious.

 

“I have—”

 

“Nah, ah, ah.” Castiel raised his hand, effectively stopping Michael. “Don’t say you have no idea what I’m talking about because you do. You have never, ever visited me and you” he turned to Lucifer. “You’ve been living in England for twenty years now. What are you doing here back here?”

 

Michael and Lucifer both looked at each other, evidently not too happy about the turn of events. They seemed to have some short of silent argument that ended with Lucifer nodding and Michael shaking his head.

 

“First of all” Lucifer began.

 

“And we had decided to wait” Michael pointed out.

 

“Before springing this on you”

 

“But Lucifer is coming back”

 

“And Michael has decided to sell dad’s company.” Lucifer finished and Cas had forgotten how well Lucifer and Michael communicated. Completing each other’s sentences didn’t even come close to how interconnected their minds were. He remembered, when he was little, how their relationship had always amazed him because Michael and Lucifer were closer than any other two people Cas knew. That was of course until their fallout. Lucifer hadn’t only fought with their father after all but with Michael as well; and if Cas was honest, he thought Lucifer’s fight with Michael was what had pushed him over the edge and led him a complete ocean away to a different continent.

 

And for a moment, Cas was too surprised at seeing that short of relationship unravel to be able to truly grasp what they were trying to say. Because there was no way Lucifer was coming back and absolutely no way Michael was selling their father’s company. Lucifer had never looked back ever since he left and all Michael had ever dreamed off was taking over that damn company.

 

“What?” He managed to ask after a couple of failed attempts. “How… why do… just explain please.”

 

Lucifer and Michael exchanged a look again, probably conducting an entire conversation between themselves in a span of seconds. “Well, Lucifer—”

 

“One at a time and each for himself.” Cas clarified because as fun as it was to watch this, he wanted to hear the truth; first hand and without interruptions.

 

“Right.” Michael nodded. “I decided to sell the company because I… well, I think it’s time for change.”

 

“And I decided to come back because I need a change of pace.”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes and snorted. “You both basically said the same thing. I just… why don’t you spit it out?”

 

Another look exchanged between the two of them and this time Lucifer spoke first. “I’ve been absent for too long. Gabriel was right and I need to make it up to you—to all of you.” he said, letting some of the snarky exterior crack like he rarely did and allowing some actual feeling to slip through.

 

“And you don’t know how much time you have to do that.” Castiel filled in what Lucifer had intentionally left unspoken. “When it comes to Gabriel.”

 

Lucifer swallowed. “Yes.”

 

Castiel was taken aback by the honesty Lucifer was depicting but didn’t let it show on his face in fear of disrupting their moment. And they were actually getting somewhere right now and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.

 

“And you?” He turned to Michael who had been preoccupied with glaring at the floor as Lucifer spoke.

 

“This company has done more harm than good.”

 

Castiel cocked his head to the side a little in inquiry at his brother’s—he had no doubt—intentional vagueness.

 

“It has driven you away. All of you.” Michael clarified, suddenly growing remorseful. “I know you think we are both heartless but… we grew up with different parents.” he continued, taking a step closer to Castiel.

 

“Parents who you and Gabe didn’t get to meet. And when things changed,” Lucifer explained, his voice softer getting softer as he spoke.  
  
“When mom got depressed and father turned into a cruel and unrelenting bastard, we were old enough to remember how they used to be.”

 

“And we felt like this was our dept. For Michael to step up,”

 

“And Lucifer to stand up. We never meant for you,”

 

“For Balthazar and Gabriel and you, Castiel, to get caught in the crossfire.”

 

Castiel at first was too shocked to even try to reply to any of that. He had been raised with an absent mother and an uncaring father; that was the kind of parents he had known. When he was younger, before he was even in school, he thought he could remember Michael laughing or Lucifer playing with them, like older brothers were meant to but it had been so long ago and the probability of it being true so little, that he had convinced himself he must have fabricated it.

 

He had been raised in a house where displaying no emotion other than indifference had been the norm. Their family dinners had been big, with many people around but they had been quiet; too quiet.

 

But his brothers were right; Michael had always been the image of conformity and obedience to their father’s will while Lucifer was his own man. Their father might have died before Castiel had gotten a chance to even finish high school but even then, he had tried to lure Cas into the company; tried to turn him into a soldier. But it had never been like with Michael and Lucifer. Maybe Michael and Lucifer had turned into who they are so they could spare their brothers of having to.

 

And despite everything, despite how little he had always thought of them, Cas was starting to see things from their perspectives. He was starting to understand.

 

“Our father has been dead for more than ten years. Why now?” He asked, needing to know because the prospect of forgiving his brothers was starting to look scary; real.

 

“We had forgotten what it was like.” Michael said simply, suddenly sounding more defeated and less confident than Cas had ever seen him before. Because he wasn’t pretending any more.

 

Castiel’s eyes practically popped out of his skull because Lucifer had reached out and grabbed Michael’s hand, their fingers knitting together, barely visible underneath their coat sleeves. The gesture made Michael relax and managed to soften some of his permanent frown and Cas had a flashback of the image of the brother he thought he had fabricated.

 

“We know this is a lot but we do hope you see where we come from and in time,”

 

“Maybe forgive both of us for not being there. For letting you down.” Lucifer smiled, regret and guilt too harshly depicted in his eyes to be anything but completely truthful.

 

The three of them stood in the kitchen, Cas’s eyes gazing blankly at the floor and it took him a moment to figure out what he was feeling. He _was_ seeing where his brothers were coming from; and he understood. Because he had stepped up and left only after Lucifer had opened the way for him to do so and Michael taken on all the weight that came with his name so he could.

 

It took him a moment to figure out what he was feeling because he hadn’t realized he needed it before. He was feeling closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter centers mostly on Cas and his relationship with his brothers and i know there is no Dean in it but i promise the next chapter will be all about them so don't worry.
> 
> I really hope you like and please comment with your opinion or advice :)


	9. I'm No Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little bit of sex going on...

“Gabriel, you need to eat.” Cas tried to keep his voice calm but it was getting more difficult with each time Gabriel refused him.

 

Of course, Gabriel’s only response was a grunt and more ignoring of Castiel.

 

Castiel sighed and pursed his lips. He had sworn he was going to be patient, he reminded himself. “Gabriel do you know what happens when you don’t get food and water into your system? You get dehydrated. Dehydration combined with your drug regime is a death wish.”

 

Again nothing. Gabriel simply switched the channel on the television and kept on ignoring Cas.

 

“Gabriel, I’m not doing this because I’m being ‘anal’.” He softened his tone, his hand reaching to squeeze Gabriel’s knee. “I know you feel like you can’t keep anything down but can you at least try?”

 

Gabriel grimaced but he eventually got up and went to the kitchen when Castiel had brought him some chicken soup. “Happy mom?” Gabriel snarled around a mouthful of soup.

 

“Very much dear.” Castiel grinned with his accomplishment.

 

Castiel was about to fetch one of the books Crowley had given him and start reading on the couch when he heard someone knocking on his door.

 

“Will you get that mommy?”

 

“Oh my god! Don’t call me ‘mommy’ it’s creepy.” Cas shouted as he headed for the door.

 

Opening it, he found Dean standing at his doorstep and smiling only just a little nervously. “Hey.” He looked up from thick lashes, his cheeks blushing visibly under the faint light of Cas’s doorstep.

 

“Hi.” Cas couldn’t stop his own smile from spreading. “Come in.” he moved to the side, allowing Dean to step inside.

 

“I just finished work; thought I’d come by—I hope it’s alright.” Dean shifted his weight from one foot to another and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

 

“Of course.” Cas said instantly. Although they used to live together they both knew it would take time to get so comfortable around each other again.

 

“Who is it?” Gabriel’s voice rang through the house.

 

“Stop yelling.” Cas yelled back with an eye roll.

 

“Stop mothering.” His delightful brother countered and Cas had to spend a minute wondering how Gabriel could so exhausted and yell at the same time.

 

“Jesus… things between the two of you haven’t changed, huh?” Dean chuckled, some of the tension melting away from his body.

 

He walked past Castiel and towards the kitchen, already familiar with the house from when he’d been here for the first time four days ago. Cas and Dean had agreed to take things slow, at least at first so they had resumed dating, something they had never officially done before. So four days ago, they’d gone out for dinner and then Cas had invited Dean to his place to watch a movie—which they did… for the most part or at least until they started kissing and the movie went to hell.

 

Cas unscrewed his feet form the hallway and followed Dean to the kitchen where he found him and Gabriel laughing over something he hadn’t heard.

 

“Hey.” Dean looked up when he saw Cas. “Gabe was just telling me what a wonderful mother you’d make.”

 

“Ha ha.” Cas wrinkled his nose, feigning annoyance. “Let’s see you try and get this guy to stuff his mouth with food.”

 

“No offense, Gabe but I think I’ll pass.” He turned to Cas with a grin. “But I could probably stuff your mouth with something.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

“Eww.” Gabriel let his spoon drop in the soup cup with a frown. “That’s disgusting… that’s like TMI or something.”

 

Dean’s eyes glinted for a second and Cas had to wonder if he’d imagined it. “Seriously? That’s your TMI standard. Sammy has walked into us having nasty sex.”

 

“Oh, that explains a lot about your brother, actually.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Sure… come stuff me?” Gabriel pulled the whole puppy-eyes, looking at Dean expectantly.

 

This was getting out of hand. “Okayyyy.” Cas stepped between them. “Nobody is stuffing anyone.” He shot Gabriel a stern look. “Dean, you wanna come upstairs?”

 

“Oh, if you guys want to stay in the living room I can head out.” Gabriel said quickly.

 

“Nah, this is gonna be a long make out slash cuddle session anyway. Might as well do it on the bed.” Dean waved at Gabriel and walked past Castiel again to get to the stairs and climb to the bedroom.

 

Castiel followed him upstairs and found Dean leaning over the nightstand, examining the psychology books—which Cas had forgotten all about.

 

“What’s all this?” he asked once Cas had closed the bedroom.

 

Castiel bit his lip because he wasn’t sure how Dean would take his researching. He didn’t think he’d necessarily mind but he still didn’t want to rock the boat too hard. “Uhm… I thought I’d catch up on some things.” He admitted eventually because no matter Dean’s reaction could be, he didn’t want to lie.

 

“Like… PTSD, sexual abuse and Stockholm Syndrome?” Den squatted so he could take a look at the rest of the books that were lying on the floor next to the bed. “Do you think I have Stockholm Syndrome?” is voice growing quiet, only a little bit insecure.

 

Cas moved swiftly to Dean’s side to place a hand on his shoulder and pull him up. “I do not think you have Stockholm Syndrome.” He said finally, keeping eye contact with Dean. “I think in actuality, none of these terms particularly and fully apply to you or anyone else for that matter. I just want to be prepared.”

 

“What for?” Dean asked, his fingers idly fidgeting with a loose thread on his jeans.

 

“For… I don’t know, for not screwing up, I guess.”

 

Dean’s eyes softened, any hurt or anger that was previously there now gone as he reached to cup Cas’s cheek. “You’ve never screwed up.”

 

“Not yet but I’m bound to.” Castiel pointed out, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean’s neck. “And it will end up doing more harm than good, you know.”

 

“So… these books are helping you?” Dean asked thoughtfully.

 

“Well, I talked to a friend of mine and he gave me a couple and then I bought a few more—just to be sure.”

 

“The psychiatrist friend of yours?”

 

“I didn’t tell him anything specific, don’t worry.” Castiel was quick to say.

 

“No, no.” Dean shook his head, taking a seat on the bed. “You have a right to talk to him about it. This isn’t just about me anymore and I know it’s a lot of pressure on you too. You should be able to talk about it.” Dean’s shoulders slumped and he was clearly disappointed.

 

Castiel kneeled on the carpet between Dean’s legs and placed his hands gingerly on his thighs. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

“Did he… did he tell you I was uhm, damaged? That it wasn’t worth it?” Dean twisted the loose thread around his index finger while avoiding to look directly at Castiel.

 

“Of course not.” Cas squeezed Dean’s legs to enunciate his point. “He said there would be a lot of work and I should be prepared for that but he would never tell me this isn’t worth it.”

 

“Yeah but what if… what if it turns out it’s not as good as you remember it? What happens when I’m more work than—”

 

“Dean, it’s already plenty good.” Cas smiled genuinely as he moved his hands from Dean’s legs to his neck. “Just… spending time with you, going on dates and even this right here, it makes me feel like myself. When we… when we split, I thought I would never get that back—get _you_ back and now I have that and I have you and I am happy.”

 

“But it didn’t used to be like this!” Dean was on the verge of tears, his body charged with frustration and impatience. “It used to be simple, carefree, natural!”

 

“Our lives aren’t simple and carefree anymore Dean. Back then we worried about passing our classes and getting a good GPA. Now I have to worry about my patients not dying and you have to kick down doors and apprehend criminals for a living.” Castiel reasoned, still seeing Dean’s point but reluctant to agree with it. “It will never be the same.” He said softly.

 

“I just want things to go back to the way they were. I wish I had listened to you.”

 

“You wouldn’t be yourself if you had.” Cas pointed out calmly. He had noticed something was off with Dean form the moment he saw him standing at the door but he couldn’t figure out what had brought this on. “Did something happen today?”

 

Dean sighed, his body growing frigid again. “Raid; underage sex slavery ring.” Dean said meekly, his hand twitching unintentionally. “It was…I don’t even know how I made it through without flipping the fuck out.”

 

Cas knew Dean didn’t need words so he pulled Dean’s head lower and kissed him instead. Dean was tentative at first, not kissing Castiel back but suddenly, it was like a dam broke. Dean let all his inhibition go and took full control of the kiss, his teeth nibbling at Cas’s bottom lip and making him groan. Cas reveled in it, feeling himself hardening in his jeans as Dean roughly pulled him up so Cas was straddling him.

 

They grinded against each other while Dean dug his hands underneath Castiel’s sweater, swiftly pulling it up and over the his head. They pulled apart for moment and Cas felt like he should say something; like this going a little too fast but Dean was on him before he had the chance to articulate any sort of sentence.

 

He grabbed Cas’s ass and rolled them over so Cas was on his back with thighs squeezing Dean’s hips and keeping him close. Dean ran calloused hands over his chest, tingling his skin and tweaking his nipples, making Cas arch off the mattress. He started trailing kisses and nipping at the skin down Castiel’s neck but his cheeks felt wet and Castiel got reminded of how they’d ended up here in the first place.   
  
“Dean…” he tried to stop him but the man’s name turned into a moan at his lips as their cocks grinded together through layers of fabric at just the right angle.

 

“Shhh, Cas.” Dean whispered in his ear, making his skin goose up. “I just wanna try something, yeah?” his hand went to Cas’s jeans, fingers on the button but merely staying there. “Can I do that, Cas?”

 

And holly fuck Dean’s tongue was starting to lick at his ear shell and how could Castiel possibly say no _now_? He highly doubted a saint could resist this and Cas was far from a saint so he nodded as best as he could, hoping he wasn’t just screwing with all the progress they’d made together over the last couple of weeks.

 

“Just relax. I think this will be good.” Dean murmured and he sounded actually confident about this.

 

Dean untangled himself from between of Cas’s legs and started unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to expose his cock and straddle him. He leaned down and took Cas’s nipple between his lips while he used one of his hands to abuse the other one, making Cas moan… shamelessly and he didn’t even try to contain it. It felt like he had been denying himself for far too long ad he finally had a chance to find the release he had been waiting for for so long.

 

Cas managed to get enough air into his lungs to oxygenate his brain and figured he should do something with his hands too. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s back, hands traveling downward to the hem of his shirt to remove it but Dean stopped him.

 

“No.” he said but he was still smiling.

 

“But—”

 

“No. This is for you. Just sit there and look pretty.” He punctuated his point with a devastating kiss against Castiel’s lips, which pretty much annihilated all of Cas’s concerns.

 

Yeah, okay… he could look pretty.

 

And then Dean’s hand was on his cock and he could definitely look pretty because it had been _way_ too long since he had someone else’s hands on his body and he knew this wasn’t the right way to do this but here he was, writhing on his bed and shuddering at every pass of Den’s rough fingers against the swollen head of his cock. And he was whimpering and he couldn’t keep it down if his life depended on it—especially not when Dean went back to his nipples, which Cas just knew were going to be bruised in the morning.

 

“Oh, fuck…” Cas huffed out after a particularly hard stroke and he was just _this_ close in a way he hadn’t been since he was a teenager. The irony of the situation was that at the time, it had been with Dean again and Dean’s hands now were much like that first time: eager but shy as well.

 

“Please, Dean.” He whimpered, completely uncaring of how desperate he sounded. “Kiss me, please kiss me—” and Dean presumed to do just that, sucking and biting Cas’s lips as his strokes grew faster and harder.

 

“Dean I’m—” Cas groaned as he came all over Dean’s hand and his own stomach, shuddering with the force of it.

 

Dean’s hand gentled and he didn’t pull away instantly as Cas would have thought. He gave a couple of softer pulls through the aftershocks of Cas’s orgasm and kissed him again but this time, without any urgency or despair to it. “Just give me a minute.” Dean pulled away from Cas before he could protest but it didn’t feel like something was wrong. And he just felt to boneless to try and move right now which was pretty damn selfish on his part. But he could feel concern and protectiveness tugging at the back of hid mind and he really knew he should get up and check on Dean. Because they had only kissed so far and three minutes ago, Dean had jerked him off… while effectively not letting Cas touch him.

 

At some point of his internal monolog, Cas heard the bathroom sink running and he put two and two together, realizing Dean wouldn’t want to have a sticky hand and that managed to ease some his worry. Cas straightened up on the bed and was about get up so he could rid himself of the rapidly cooling cum on his stomach when he saw Dean emerge form the bathroom. He was carrying a washcloth and smiling softly as he walked up to Castiel.

 

Cas held out his hand to take but Dean rolled his eyes and started cleaning him himself. “I can—” Cas argued, because he didn’t want Dean to feel like he had to do this but Dean just ignored him.

 

“Cas? Seriously just sit there. Everything is fine. I’m fine.” He finished and threw the used washcloth in the general vicinity of the bathroom before flopping down next to Castiel. Dean was still fully dressed so Cas pulled both his underwear and jeans back up and lied back on the bed.

 

“Dean?” he started tentatively while the other man was lying by his side.

 

Dean groaned in response but it sounded like he was exasperated more than anything else. He threw an arm over Cas’s chest and pulled him closer so they were facing each other. “Cas?” He mirrored Castiel’s tone.

 

“What was that—not that it wasn’t amazing, you know, just…”

 

Dean chuckled and Cas noticed he looked a lot better than when he’d walked a while ago. “I’ve been… thinking about it for a few days and I… well, I thought now is as good a time as any so I went for it.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

 

“Yeah but…are you sure everything is fine now?”

 

“Actually, I was pretty convinced I was gonna freak at some point but it went quite well I think—I mean, sorry if it was a little rough at first, I was just wound up a little.”

 

“No, no, it was great.” Cas draped his arm over Dean’s waist. “So, no freak out?”

 

“Yup… although this was pretty small stuff. I don’t know what’s it going to be like with the important stuff.” Dean was quick to say, his back tensing a little at the mention of the ‘important stuff’.

 

Cas pulled him closer, moving on of his legs to rest between Dean’s, the rasp of jeans rubbing together too loud in the quiet room. “Hey, let’s just be happy about this, yeah? I mean, only two weeks ago we were managing kissing and now… just owo.” Cas said in awe, baffled at Dean’s ability to… he didn’t even know anymore. That man was simply amazing.

 

“I’m glad you liked it.” Dean smiled shyly, his hand coming to rest on Cas’s side.

 

“I did but are you sure you don’t want me to… do something?”

 

Dean twitched at that and Cas felt his anger spike in the familiar way it always did when he got reminded of how little he could to do to help Dean. It wasn’t a position he liked being in. “No, I think that it might be a little further down the line if you don’t mind. I don’t know if I can…”

 

“You don’t know if you can enjoy it?” Cas suggested remembering Crowley’s words.

 

Dean chuckled nervously, his nails gently dragging over Cas’s ribcage. “Pretty much. I wasn’t even sure I could enjoy _this_.”

“And did you?” Cas asked quietly, his fingers drawing circles on Dean’s chest.

 

“Surprisingly, I did. But I need some… some time before I’m ready to let you return the favor?”

 

“Of course but I will help you see that it can still be good.” Cas promised, completely honest and needing for Dean to see it.

 

“I…” Dean seemed lost in his own thoughts for a minute. “Thank you.” He said instead and Cas felt his heart warm up as Dean wiggled even closer, bringing their bodies fully together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you can feel but this was the first sex scene i have EVER written so please... don't be too harsh :)
> 
> And as always comments are greatly appreciated


	10. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Dean woke with a start, prepared for the self-loathing and labored breathing his nightmares would ensue…only, it didn’t come. Which was weird. Definitely weird. What was weirder was the fact he had a hard-on and that usually didn’t happen. Okay; never happened.

 

Keeping himself calm, he tried to recall what he’d been dreaming, realizing it in fact had nothing to do with his torturer and everything to do with Cas. Cas blowing him, which was abso-ficking-lutely weird, since he generally avoided those fantasies at all costs.

 

Usually, the few times this happened, he would dart out of bed and straight to the shower, abusing his cold water. He thought about doing that now, he even threw the covers away but stopped short of getting out of bed. He’d managed to give Cas a hand job just three days ago; surely he could give himself one, right?

 

In all honesty, the times he followed through with his erection were sparse and could only be described as forced. It was something he knew he should do to relieve pressure; he neither enjoyed it nor looked forward to it but this time felt different. It felt like, maybe he could do this; maybe he could do it without the inevitable wave of dirtiness or repulsion that followed.

 

Dean started out tentatively, his hand slowly snaking down his stomach until it was under his waistband. Precome was smeared all over his underwear and he realized, belatedly, that he was achingly hard. He’d sorta forgotten what that felt like.

 

Taking a steadying breath, he wrapped his fingers around his dick and bit his lip to keep from making any sounds. He rubbed his fingers over the head, dragging precome around his cock before settling into a steady rhythm. It didn’t feel completely comfortable but it was light years away from what it used to feel like.

 

He felt himself getting closer and upped he speed of his hand, bringing the other down as well to play with his balls. He thought about moving further down but decided not to push himself too far this time.

 

Pleasure was starting to built in his gut and let his hand jerk even faster before feeling his body tense all over and warm cum sputter on his stomach.

 

He was expecting a small freak out at that point but he merely smiled, satisfied with his accomplishment and after that, he was kinda too fucked-out to care. He grabbed some tissues to wipe off his mess and went back to sleep.

 

*****

 

“I still don’t understand why you want me to help with this stuff.” Dean mumbled, trying to find a way out of this. Honestly, he had no idea how he even got _in_ this in the first place. “I mean, what gave you the idea that I’d be good for this? I suck at planning.”

 

Jess of course refused to listen to a word he was saying and simply smiled, presuming to take another binder out of her bag. _How many binders did you need for planning a wedding?_

 

“Dean, Sam suggested you could help.” She pointed out, all innocent and smiley.

 

“Yeah, I got that part but I… I don’t know jack about weddings!” Dean took a seat with her at the table anyways. “I’m not even… like I’m not even into women; you know that, right?”

 

“Well, as a matter of fact, I didn’t think Cas was hiding a pair of boobs underneath his scrubs but thanks for clearing that up.” Jess grinned. “It’s not that bad, Dean. You’ll just have to look at a couple of pictures and say what looks good.”

 

“Shouldn’t Sammy be doing that? I mean he’s the…groom after all.”

 

Jess rolled her eyes and shoved a bridal magazine in his hands. “The groom has to work today. Ergo, the groom’s brother is supposed to help the groom’s bride.”

 

There literally was no arguing with a pregnant bride. “Fine, fine. What am I supposed to be looking for?” Dean started flipping through the glossy pages covered in wedding dresses. He had not expected his day to be like this.

 

“The pages are dog-eared; just tell me which ones you like.” Jess instructed, taking another magazine, this one filled with wedding decorations.

 

And so Dean spent the next hour looking at wedding dresses, which were obscenely fluffy and sometimes shinny. He liked a couple, told Jessica as much but by the time they finished with the wedding dresses he felt violated. “This was disgusting! Can we do something else now?” Dean was not ashamed to plead.

 

“Yes, now we can look at suits.” She said cheerily, handing Dean a different magazine.

 

“Are you kidding me? No! I have a headache from all the fluffy shit I had to endure. I can help you out with the music—or the food.”

 

Jess frowned but finally shrugged. “I guess you’re right. You’re after all very manly. These are the menus.” She handed him a stack of brochures. “By the way, you look kinda different today.”

 

“Really? What do you mean?” Dean tried to sound uninterested.

 

“Uhm, lighter, maybe? More relaxed?” She narrowed her eyes. “Happy.”

 

Dean couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face so he buried it behind a dessert catalogue.

 

“Castiel must be good for you.”

 

“Yeah, he is.” Dean mumbled without hesitation, already looking forward to meeting with him tonight.

 

There was a moment of tense silence between them. Dean could tell Jess wanted to say something. “Dean?” She asked, her voice completely neutral.

 

Dean looked up from the catalogue. “Yeah?”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between the two of you?” Jess’s tone was careful, like she didn’t know where was safe to step on. “Sam mentioned you were together but then…you broke up or something?”

 

“Yes, I…” Dean cleared his throat, still not too comfortable when talking about this. “Our father was in the marines. He died when he was stationed in Afghanistan. Now, this is so weird because my father wouldn’t actually talk to me.” Dean chuckled bitterly, remembering the disappointment on his father’s face when Dean had told him about Cas. “Because of Cas, y’ know but when I found out he died I was like… I don’t know, I just singed up, didn’t tell Cas, didn’t tell Sam… just did it. And Cas is… he’s one of the most selfless people I’ve known but he was hurt that I was leaving him. We got into this really big fight about a month later, both of us saying things we shouldn’t have and then I had to leave. We didn’t speak to each other for weeks and then I called him just after basic training but… well, we were both young, arrogant and hurt. It didn’t work out.” He tried to summarize it, not wanting to have to tell Jess how Dean had called Cas an ignorant jerk and how in retaliation Cas had Called Dean a homophobic jackass. _Yeah, not the best of times_.

 

“I’m sorry, Dean. Shit, I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, you were so happy today and I just—”

 

“No, no, it’s fine. Things are a lot better now. Better than they have been in a long time.” Dean assured her. He had already come to terms with what had happened between him and Cas. Maybe somewhere in the midst of all the crap that found him, he got to know what really mattered.

 

“I’m glad to hear that, Dean. You deserve it.” Jess smiled kindly and Dean had to clear his throat because this was getting just a tad too feely for him. He always felt uncomfortable when people spoke about what he deserved. In all honesty, he had to admit part of him was still worried they’d say he deserved hell; he deserved punishment; he deserved everything.

 

Dean shook his head because he had to run away from that place in his mind as fast as he could; nothing good ever came of it. He decided to go for a change of subject instead. It was a good day after all so why ruin it?

 

Thankfully, he had a bride in front of him and brides loved to talk about their weddings and Jess was no exception. “So, what’s with the hurry? You guys have been engaged for like a month.” Dean would have thought the wedding to be at least one year from now. “You trying to beat the baby or something?”

 

“Actually there is no way we manage to organize a wedding in time for that.” Jessica blushed; pregnant was really suiting her.

 

“How is the baby by the way?” Dean would deny it if anyone asked him but when Sammy had told him the news about Jess being pregnant he had been over the moon, already coming up with fun ‘uncle’ activities.

 

“Very active.” Jess punctuated her point with a grimace as her hand covered her bump. “Actually, wanna feel?”

 

Dean was shocked into place for a moment but he nodded. Jess stood up and took hold of his hand to place on her belly and Dean felt a very real kick against his palm.

 

“Holy…! That thing is alive!” He flinched back for a second before placing his hand back on her distended belly.

 

Jessica chuckled, moving his hand to different places where the movement felt different. “”You can try talking to her if you want.”

 

“Her?” Dean looked up at Jessica, his eyebrow raised in question.

 

“Yeah, we just learnt yesterday.” Jess blushed even deeper.

 

Dean huffed, deciding to have a talk with Sammy. “And why didn’t my bitch of a—”

 

“Hey! No swearing in front of the baby.” She swatted his shoulder with no real force behind it.

 

“Sorry princes.” Dean apologized to the bump… damn, he was actually talking to someone’s belly… which was definitely weird and… pretty awesome. “As I was saying, why didn’t he tell me?”

 

“I told him I’d tell you, you big jealous baby.”

 

“Aww, was that your mama voice?” he grinned at jess, albeit theatrically. “Hear that princess, your mama’s already got her voice ready and everything.”

 

Jess rolled her eyes and snorted, darting Dean’s hand away so she could sit back down. “You’re impossible.” He laughed. “And so is she. I swear to god I can barely stay on my feet for ten minutes before my back starts killing me.”

 

“Oh, oh, have you guys decided on a name?” Dean asked enthusiastically, eager to have a proper name for his… niece.

 

“Uhm, Sam suggested Mary?”

 

“Really?” Dean asked hesitantly. Sam hadn’t had the chance to really know their mother, since she died when he was only six but Dean’s best memories were with her. Actually, when he came out to their father, Dean had no doubt, had their mother been there, she would have stood by him. As it was though, their father had kicked him out of the house without a second thought.

 

“Absolutely; told him I’d get to name the next one.”

 

*****

 

Dean sat at their usual booth in the diner and waited for Cas to join him. After he and Jess finished and Jess went home, Dean came here for his and Cas’s date. He had already ordered a milkshake for Cas and a coke for him when he saw Cas entering the diner and coming his way.

 

Dean smiled and leaned up so Cas could kiss him chastely before sitting down. Cas seemed surprised since Dean only initiated this kind of close contact when they were alone but he rolled with it.

 

When Cas moved away to sit down, Dean could still smell the acidy residue of multiple layers of disinfectant and a particular smell he had to come to acquaint with surgery. And it wasn’t only the smell; Cas’s face matched it. It looked hallow and grey in a way it always did after Castiel had back-to-back surgeries.

 

The milkshake already waiting for him though, seemed to cheer him up a little and he relaxed as he took a couple of sips. “Sorry I’m late. I was literally ready to leave and then one of my patients crashed.”

 

“Are they okay?”

 

Cas shrugged and Dean could tell they probably weren’t. “His heart stopped twice in surgery… I don’t know. I… I know I can’t save everyone.”

 

“No, you can’t. You still try though; that’s what makes you _you_.” Dean said encouragingly, his good mood getting the best of him.

 

He was aware that his and Cas’s relationship was continuously revolving around Dean’s issues but he knew that Cas also had problems and Dean was struck with the inherent need to help him through them. He wondered if Cas felt the same way about helping Dean.

 

“You’re in a very good mood today.” Cas pointed suspiciously, like he hadn’t expected that of Dean.

 

“I’m in a good mood many days.” Dean contradicted cheerfully, if only to see Cas’s suspiciousness grow.

 

“Yeah but today it’s like…what’s going on?”

 

Dean leaned closer to Cas over the table, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I had a dream about you last night.” He whispered, chuckling at the way Cas’s breath hitched.

 

“Was it… was it good?” Castiel asked quietly, his voice becoming heavier. The familiar tone sent a shiver up Dean’s spine.

 

“Oh, yeah. I woke up and jerked myself off.” Dean moved away again, taking not of Cas’s flushed cheeks and more than a little surprised expression.

 

“I… I had not seen this coming—but it’s good…right?”

 

Dean laughed at Cas’s apprehension, both of them acting like blushing virgins. “Yeah, it was good Cas. Although, I think all that seductive whispering was about all the sexual courage and energy I had for the week.” Dean was only half kidding. As good as he felt right now, he honestly didn’t want to push his luck.

 

“That’s fine Dean.” Cas smiled, much of his frustration from the surgery visibly draining away. “I’m very… glad.” He smiled genuinely, some of the hollowness lifting from his face. Dean smiled too because he had made Cas smile and wasn’t that a sign of lovesickness. 

 

“Yeah… it had been a while I guess.” Dean drunk some of his coke to hide his blush. “By the way, I just learnt today that Jess is pregnant with a girl.”

 

“Oh, yes. I saw them at the hospital yesterday.”

 

“You mean you found out before I did?” Dean asked in mock hurt.

 

Cas chuckled at Dean’s theatrics. “It was by accident, Dean. I just happened to be on the OBGYN floor when they were leaving.”

 

“Makes sense; you’re forgiven. Wait a minute” Dean narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing in the OBGYN floor?” Cas was a trauma surgeon and Dean had been in that hospital enough times to know the ER floor didn’t coincide with the gynecology one.

 

“Nothing!” Cas was quick to say, a little doo defensively.

 

“Seriously?” Dean raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by Cas’s ability to lie… or more like inability.

 

Cas frowned and reluctantly answered with a huff. “Fine. I like to look at the babies sometimes. Happy?”

 

Dean was a little taken aback by that but he remembered Cas had always wanted children. “You still…”He let the question hang between them because he didn’t want to get too definitive. Not yet.

 

“Yeah. You?” Castiel replied and Dean could tell he was worried about Dean’s reaction.

 

“I haven’t really thought about it for the last couple of years.” Dean murmured because he honestly hadn’t. When he and Cas were together they had talked about getting married and adopting children but Dean had given up on that life. For better or for worse, he had come to terms with the new life he had planned for himself.

 

And then Castiel showed up, of course but that didn’t mean Dean was ready to let everything go. He still had a hard time looking at himself in the mirror without any clothes on and that spoke volumes of how bad he had it. The again, only one month ago he couldn’t even bear the thought of jerking off and he had, just this morning and he guessed, that spoke volumes of how far he had made it.

 

Dean realized he had been quiet for too long and he didn’t want Cas to get the wrong idea so he said quickly, “I’m not saying no, just—”

 

“Hey, one step at a time, remember?” Cas smiled and if he was disappointed by Dean’s answer, then Dean couldn’t tell.

 

“You’re right.” Dean agreed and he didn’t want Castiel to give anything else up for his sake. He had already given up sex and if Dean was absolutely frank, even today, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to give that to Castiel again. But he still wanted to try. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.” He asked before he could talk himself out of it.  


“Uh, okay?” Cas narrowed his eyes.

 

“It’s nothing bad just… well, you mentioned you had a friend who was a psychiatrist.”

 

“Yes.” Cas mumbled around his straw. “Was that the question?” Castiel grinned knowing full well this wasn’t Dean’s question.

 

“No I… do you like, see him?”

 

“See him.” Cas repeated.

 

The man was just going to force Dean to spit it out. “Yeah, jackass, like a doctor? As in, does he psycho-examine you?”

 

Castiel chuckled, clearly satisfied with his doing. “Actually I do. Before I moved here we would do some Skype-therapy. I visit him at least once a week.”

 

“Does he help you out?”

 

Cas seemed to think on it for a moment. “He helps see things from a different perspective, I guess. A perspective I wouldn’t otherwise see.”

 

_Perspective._

“Why do you ask?” Cas continued, trying to come off as innocent but Dean supposed he already knew where this was going.

 

“I… I don’t know, maybe it’s my good mood but I think maybe it’s time I tried again? Do _you_ think I should try?”

 

“I think you should do what you feel confortable doing. Definitely don’t do it for me or for anyone else.” Castiel argued, completely serious this time.

 

“That’s a good point but, I think before I didn’t have a reason to, y’ know?” He stopped to take a sip of coke. “I had decided I was going to stay alone but now, here you are and I really want to try for you—for us.”

 

Castiel smiled kindly, reaching out to take Dean’s hand. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to because of me—or because of us. But, it is my personal opinion that the right therapist can make a world of difference.”

 

“I don’t feel like I have to Cas, honestly. I really just want to—and trust me, I did not think I would ever be willing to do it but… well, I didn’t think you and I would have another chance so… I’m gonna try.” Dean said anxiously but he recognized some confidence in himself as well.

 

“I’m really glad. Actually—”

 

“Oh, what are planning? I know that tone!” Dean accused him jokingly.

 

“I just… this is actually Crowley’s field of expertise. And he is one of that best.”

 

Dean bit his lip, uncertain. “Yeah but won’t he mind because you’re his friend and I’m your boyfriend?”

 

“Oh, so you’re my boyfriend?” Cas smirked, licking some cream from his straw.

 

Dean snorted, sitting back in the booth. “Dude, I was practically your friggin’ husband before. Don’t get all cold feet on my now.”

 

“You’re right.” Cas nodded before he put the straw back in the glass. “And he won’t mind. He’s the one who suggested it actually. He asked me if you were seeing anyone and if we’d like some couples therapy. He said it for fun but he never says anything completely for fun.”

 

The whole thing was happening a little faster than Dean had hoped but his early morning jerkoff session had put him in good spirits. “Okay… I think I could give him a shot.” He agreed, only a little uncertain.

 

Cas smiled again, one of the rare, whole-hearted smiles that made Dean all gooey and disgustingly sentimental, before leaning forward to kiss him.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank all of you who have commented and left kudos and say that i really appreciate it :)


	11. Let It Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has a hard day at the hospital. Dean shows up.

CHAPTER 10

Castiel reeked of blood. He felt as if he had blood everywhere on his body. Reasonably, he knew that wasn’t possible since he wore scrubs and a plastic apron on top of them when he was in the ER but he couldn’t help feeling bloodied.

 

However, he had come to terms with the fact that this was the effect his job had on him some times and he was willing to accept it. At least, that’s what he told himself as he scrubbed down his body for the third time. He watched the suds trickle to the shower drain white and bloodless and told himself it was enough.

 

He stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist and left the steam-filled bathroom. He started putting on his clothes and couldn’t help the smell of copper that attacked his senses. He knew it was merely in his mind but he still had to fight with himself for a second shower.

 

He was in the middle of drying his hair with a towel when he heard the bell ring and dragged downstairs to open the door. He tried to smile when he saw Dean standing there but he came up short, beginning to feel more drained instead.

 

“What happened?” Dean walked inside and closed the door before wrapping his hand s around Castiel, without so much as waiting for a response.

 

Castiel buried his head in Dean’s shoulder and if he were in a better state of mind, perhaps he would consider how their places came to be reversed. As things were though, he settled for merely grabbing two handfuls of Dean’s jacket and holding on. “House fire. Parents and two girls. All four died on the table.”

 

“Let’s go upstairs.” Dean whispered, dragging Castiel by his hand to the bedroom.

 

Dean placed him on the bed and laid down beside him, having already taken off his shoes and coat, without Castiel noticing.

 

“Just when I think I can handle it, it gets bad again.” Castiel mumbled, his hand reaching between them to take hold of Dean’s. “I keep going over every little thing in my head, every step and I just… I feel lost. Like I failed.”

 

“You didn’t fail.” Dean argued patiently. “Sometimes, people die no matter how hard you try.”

 

“I could have tried harder.”

 

“No you couldn’t have. You did your best.” Dean insisted.

 

“I could have tried harder with you. If I’d just… I could have convinced you to stay, I know I could.” Castiel sniffled, draping his arm over his eyes.

 

“Cas, what are you talking about?” Castiel could hear genuine curiosity in Dean’s voice.

 

 _How can he not know?_ “If I had convinced you, you wouldn’t have gone. None of this would have happened to you.” He admitted quietly. He’d never told Dean he felt this way but his inhibitions were too far-gone to care at this moment. “I could’ve stopped you.”

 

“Cas.” Dean whispered, both in surprise and pain.

 

Cas felt fingers wrapping around his forearm and moving it down his side to uncover his eyes. He thought he was probably crying.

 

“That’s not true.” Dean continued, piercing green glaring at Castiel. “Tell me you don’t think that is true.” Dean waited for what Castiel assumed was a reply but Castiel couldn’t say anything. “I don’t blame you. I _never_ blamed you.”

 

Castiel looked away, needing to escape Dean’s unrelenting gaze. “Maybe you should.”

 

“Yeah, maybe you should get your head out of your ass.” Dean muttered under his breath.

 

Cas chuckled humorlessly. “Seriously, Dean! How can you not see it?”

 

Dena snorted next to him, turning around so he could face Castiel. “Cas, you’re the reason I can talk about it, you’re the reason I can face it.” Dean tried reasoning with him, keeping his voice soft.

 

When Cas felt Dean’s fingers on his cheek, trying to comfort him, he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped from the bad and took two steps away from Dean. “I’m the reason there is an ‘it’ in the first place.” He hissed, making a conscious effort not to yell.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up as well, coming closer to Castiel. “Yes. Maybe we should pin world hunger on you next, huh?”

 

“Shut up! How can you honestly stand there and tell me you’ve never thought about it.” Castiel insisted as he retreated further back, away from Dean.

 

Dean seemed to think on it, chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re right. I have thought about it.” he said evenly.

 

Castiel riled back in hurt, which was completely unreasonable, he told himself. He had admitted to it; he had just said it was his fault and compelled Dean to agree with him… and no that Dean had, Castiel was hurt?

 

“But not for the reason you think.” Dean continued. “I never—not once—thought what was happening to me was your fault.” He explained calmly while taking small, measured steps towards Castiel. “I love you Castiel. I could never pin this on you.”

 

Castiel took in the honesty and clarity in Dean’s voice and decided that maybe, just maybe Dean didn’t blame him as much as he blamed himself. Then, Dean was standing right in front of him, his hands pinned against the wall on either side of Castiel’s head. He looked… he looked like a predator.

 

Their eyes locked and the next things Castiel knew was he was being crushed against the wall with Dean’s body holding him there. _Maybe this would be a good time to say something, Cas._

 

“Not once.” Dean whispered before pressing his lips against Cas’s. For all the force and roughness in the way their bodies were touching, their kiss was soft, like Dean was afraid Cas would push him away. _Maybe not say anything, then._

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and parted his lips, pushing Dean away from the wall and back on the bed. Dean fell on his back and Cas straddled his hips without breaking their frantic kiss. Dean’s nails raked under Cas’s shirt, leaving red tracks on milky white skin before he pulled the thin t-shirt over Cas’s head and promptly threw it on the floor.

 

Cas had an inkling of where this was going but he had different plans this time. He pulled away and, ignoring the whine of protest from Dean, started to unbutton the man’s shirt. He made sure to keep his eyes on Dean the whole time and after a few moments of nervousness, Dean relaxed and let Cas take it off.

 

Dean’s chest was covered in scars and burns and god knew what else but Cas had seen them before. He regretted to admit, if he hadn’t, he would just stare in shock but Dean didn’t need his shock now. Instead, Cas leaned down and started kissing and running his tongue over every ragged scar or shinny piece of scar tissue he could reach. He found a particularly deep, red scar, expanding from Dean’s belly button to his hipbone and started sucking on it.

 

Dean was writhing under him. At first it was with anxiety and self-consciousness but now, Cas could his hard cock against his stomach and smiled to himself. He traled his lips over to Dean’s hipbone and bit it, making Dean buckle before starting to kiss down his navel. He stopped at the waistband of his jeans and kissed his way back to Dean’s lips.

 

“Will you let me, Dean?” he whispered as he nuzzled at Dean’s jaw. “Will you let me show you there is more to this than pain?”

 

Cas felt Dean swallow hard but he nodded as well. “Yes.” He breathed and if Cas wasn’t so close to him he would surely miss it. “Please just…”

 

Worry was unmistakable on Dean’s face and Cas moved to kiss it away. “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” Castiel assured, knowing it was important for Dean to know that.

 

“Thank you.” Dean breathed out in relief and visibly relaxed on the bed. “Oh…” he gasped as Cas sucked on his earlobe while his hands went to work on the belt buckle.

 

The belt came off with minimal fuzz and Cas presumed to open the buttons to Dean’s jeans one by one, slowing down every time he felt Dean tensing.

 

Once he had both jeans and underwear off he slowly wrapped his hands wound Dean’s dick, taking care not to break their kiss. He didn’t move his hand and waited for Dean to get used to the feeling first. “I’m gonna moved my hand, now, okay?” he murmured, thinking it might help if Dean knew exactly what he was doing.

 

Dean gave a hesitant nod and Cas started moving his fist in a slow pace. He used everything he remembered Dean liked, rubbing over the head at the end of the stroke, twist at the base, press against the underside until Den was starting to buck up into Cas’s hand on his volition.

 

Cas moved his knee between Dean’s legs and pressed it against his balls, causing Dean to gasp in surprise. “Oh, fuck.”

 

“You okay?” Cas asked playfully, starting once again to kiss down Dean’s chest.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you could say so.” Dean said quickly, breath coming in short pants.

 

Cas stopped with him mouth just under Dean’s belly button and looked up at him. “Can I use my mouth, Dean?” he asked hopefully, mouth already watering at the thought.

 

The green eyes that looked down on him seemed lost. Dean tensed all around, part of him wanting to nod, part of him wanting to throw Cas off. Cas was about to pull away but Dean’s hand grabbed his shoulder and he nodded, letting his head fall back against the bed.

 

Cas so knew this wasn’t a good idea. He should stop right now and keep going with his hand but the thought of tasting Dean after all these years had him hard beyond reason.

 

At the next twist of his fist though, a drop of precome formed at the head of Dean’s cock and he didn’t even think about it before catching it with his tongue.

 

Dean moaned and his hips shot up, chasing the contact.

 

Castiel started licking around the head of his cock, once again taking his time, making sure Dean understood he could stop him if he needed to.

 

“Cas, please…” Dean whined, his hands tangling into Cas’s hair but he didn’t push him forward. No, Dean hardly ever pushed and when he did, he always told Cas beforehand.

 

Castiel thought that he had teased him enough and wrapped his lips around Dean’s cock, instantly starting to suck and swivel his tongue around the head. He tasted salty precome and could feel the strain on Dean’s hips from trying not to push forward. He realized he was the one giving Dean so much pleasure after everything he had been through and almost came undone with the thought.

 

It had been a while since he had last done this but he decided, if he was gonna do it, he might as well do it right. He swallowed more of Dean’s cock into his mouth, while he used his fist to work the rest, trying to set up a pace.

 

“Oh, fuck, Cas…” Dean’s hips bucked up despite his efforts to stop it, forcing more of his dick between Castiel’s lips and making him gag.

 

Cas pulled away for a minute trying to catch his breath, a trickle of spittle still connecting his mouth to Dean’s cock.

 

Dean riled up immediately and tried to dislodged Cas’s hand so he could sit straight. “Shit, are you okay? I’m so—”

 

“Shut up, I’m fine. Just a little rusty.” Castiel assured him and went back to what he was doing before Dean could argue again.

 

Dean laid back down, his hands continuing to caress Cas’s hair while he spread his legs wider, giving Cas better access.

 

Cas took advantage of it and used his other hand to play with Dean’s balls, rolling them between his fingers and pressing them against Dean’s own body. Then, Dean’s entire form went taught and Cas relaxed his throat, taking in as much of Dean’s cock as he could.

 

“Cas, I’m gonna…” he warned Castiel, taking his hands away from his head so he could pull back if he wanted but Castiel only sucked harder and went lower until he felt Dean’s warm spray of cum coating his throat. He tried to swallow as much as he could but some of it trickled down his chin and onto Dean’s dick.

 

He gave a few softer sucks and licks before pulling away and collapsing on the bed next to Dean, his mouth still tasting of him.

 

Dean turned around to look at him and smiled, his eyes as expressive as Castiel had ever seen them. “C’mere.” He gestured for Cas to get closer.

 

“Was it—” Cas tried to ask but Dean placed his finger on his lips, interrupting him.

 

“Let me.” He whispered before leaning in to kiss Castiel as his fingers started working on lowering his sweats. He snaked his hand underneath Cas’s underwear and Cas came with a gasp just as Dean wrapped his fingers around his cock. “Wow, I guess you really liked that.” Dean mumbled, using his clean hand to squeeze Cas closer to him.

 

“You have no idea.” Cas chuckled before he forced himself to stand up and go to the bathroom.

 

Once he was there, he cleaned himself and wetted a washcloth, which he used to clean Dean’s spent cock. He went back to the bathroom to throw it in the laundry and by the time he was back, Dean was already under the covers, patting the space next to him. Cas joined him after putting on a clean pair of underwear and Dean didn’t waste any time before wrapping his body around Cas’s protectively.

 

Cas thought he was exhausted but as he laid there, his back against Dean’s naked chest, he found he couldn’t sleep.

 

“Spit it out, Cas.” Dean muttered against his neck, making Cas squirm. “I know you’re think about something.”

 

Truth was, Dean was right. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, Castiel couldn’t help but think this was all a huge mistake. He had pressured Dean and sure, now he looked fine but tomorrow? Next week? What if Dean realized Cas had pushed him to do this and started to resent him?

 

“Cas.” Dean warned, his tone conveying he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

 

“I… are you okay?”

 

He both head and felt Dean snort behind him but that didn’t do anything to ease his worries. “Yes, Castiel, I’m fine. I really liked what we did.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“No, I’m just lying because I don’t want to hurt your ego.” He let out sarcastically. “Of course I’m sure.” He tried again, this time his voice softer. “I would have asked you to stop if I weren’t and yes, it was a little fast and yes, I freaked a little at some points but I liked it. I liked that it was you… that you made me feel that.”

 

“Promise me though, if you change your mind—”

 

Cas could practically feel Dean’s eye roll. “I’ll tell you. Now shut up. I want to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okaaaay, so there was sex in this chapter and this was my second ever attempt at writing that so..... yeah 
> 
> please do comment so i have something to look forward to :)


	12. Defending Your Life

_The lackeys were getting him ready for what Dean was starting to consider his ‘present’ pose. Hands tied together and to the ceiling, body stretched out, suspended and trying to keep in contact with the ground and eyes turned away from his torturer so whatever happened would be a surprise. Dean had figured out, pretty early on, that the yelps of surprise, which he instinctively let out, served to amuse his torturer a great deal. At first, Dean had even tired to suppress them; he didn’t bother anymore._

_“Oh, my little bitch!” The guy huffed, voice dripping sick enthusiasm. “What can we do with you today?” he roughly slapped Dean’s ass, the skin there already broken from the unrelenting beatings._

_Dean’s only response was a whine around the dirty cloth stuffed in his mouth. He had made so much noise the last couple of times they had taken to shutting him up._

_“I have an idea. I think you like it.” His torturer stepped up behind him so the man’s uniform-covered front was flush to Dean’s naked back. His hands snaked around Dean’s hips and grabbed his flaccid dick and balls, pulling them down with a violent tug._

_Dean whimpered at the stretch and tried to curl in on himself but the bindings proved his efforts futile. He tried to thrash around and dislodge the man from behind him but the restraints stopped him again._

_“Stop!” The man hissed in Dean’s ear, his tone making Dean shiver. “Take it like good bitch you are.” He snarled, pulling harder with one of his hands while slapping Dean’s ass with the other._

_Dean was sobbing by now but he remained pliant, hoping this way the man would be finished sooner._

_“Good bitch.” He finally said, stopping the assault on Dean’s body and stepping back._

_Dean could hear some shuffling behind him but he was too relieved that the man had stopped to care. The relief was short lived though because he soon felt a pair of hands grabbing roughly at his asscheeks and pulling them apart like his torturer liked. He could feel the dried blood there making his hairs stick together and pull at the abused skin. His torturer wasn’t a big fun of lube as Dean had learnt._

_“Because you such good bitch, today we try something else, yes?” the man sounded giddy. Dean hated it when he sounded giddy. It meant he had something original in mind, something he hadn’t had the chance to try on Dean yet._

_Then, Dean felt something rounded and metal against his hole and made a conscious effort to relax, knowing it was worse if he didn’t. It was big though—or at least that’s what it felt like—and his hole was already swollen and his ass bloody from the previous time._

_“Bitch.” His torturer’s tongue darted out to lick the shell of his ear. “Come on, give it up for me.” And he sounded oddly gentle, his voice not so surly anymore._

_And his hands were actually softer, like he didn’t mean to hurt him this time, just get him to take the object in. Dean sighed, taking some comfort in the fact that this wasn’t the rod his torturer used for electrocution and forced his muscles to relax. The object slid in, dragging a muffled whimper from Dean but it was merely a ball, he realized._

_Before relief could set in, he felt another ball press against him and shivered, thinking of how many they could shove up him._

_“Come on, bitch. You were doing so well.” His torturer whispered with the same unhurried and soft voice._

_Dean hated himself but he wanted nothing more than to obey the man. He relaxed his rim and another ball slid inside. He could feel the two of them touching each other and the first one just barely nudging his prostate._ No! _There was no way he was getting hard on top of all this!_

_His torturer though ran a gentle hand up and down Dean’s side, the gesture so out of pace and appeasing and Dean couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “There is my good bitch. Come on, now.” He murmured before pressing another ball against Dean’s rim. The ball was lubed this time and slid in easily, drawing a groan of surrender out of Dean. The first ball was now flush against his prostate and he couldn’t help but quiver and jostle as he felt his cock hardening._

_“Yes, yes, that’s it.” His torturer encouraged him before pushing another lubed ball inside him._

_Dean felt a hand wrap itself around his dick and start jerking him slowly and he drew in a surprised gasp._ No! _He might be their hostage but he wasn’t going to let them make him like it._

_He started thrashing violently and as much as the restraints allowed him but his outburst was enough to dislodge the hand from his dick. He frantically tried to look around him and the more he realized what was happening the more disgusted he felt with himself. Fear took over his body and his erection wilted, which only made his torturer angry._

_The man gnarled behind Dean and Dean felt something else against his hole. He tired to clench his muscles and keep it out but his torturer only pushed harder and then the rod was in. It was thicker than the one they used fort he electrocution but it felt very similar._

_Dean whined, already feeling new tears form inside on him and suddenly, he felt stupid for fighting them in the first place. “ph…mmm.” He let out, feeling the man twist and turn the object inside him._

_“Bitch! Nothing but bitch to fuck!” the man spat, thrusting the object inside Dean and jostled the metal balls, pushing them deeper._

_Dean felt the object start vibrating and he drew in a sharp breath—or at least he tried without too much success around the grimy cloth in his mouth. The vibrations kept getting stronger and soon, Dean could feel them going deeper, the vibrator bumping against the balls and making them vibrate as well._

_“You like this?” the man challenged, forcing the vibrator and the balls impossibly deep._

_“Mhhhh!” Dean shook his head hysterically, trying to make him stop._

_“Then I stop. If you get hard, bitch.” And just on queue, he pressed the vibrator against Dean’s prostate._

_It was too much; the pain, the disturbed and unwanted pleasure, the smell of blood and muck covering Dean’s body… it was all too much. No one would see him, really… just like no one would save him._

_He let himself go and despite everything, his dick got hard. “Good little bitch.” The guy kept the pressure on Dean’s prostate. “But not enough. You were bad before. Now you get punished.” He hissed enthusiastically, pushing the rest of the vibrator inside Dean so he felt his rim close over its handle._

_With a spurge of fear Dean realized he now had four metal balls and a vibrator inside him but before he could protest, he felt his dick and balls forced into a cockring. One of the lackeys was standing in front of him, his face covered of course and holding a piece of sandpaper in his hand._

_Dean had maybe two seconds of comprehension before he felt the sandpaper around his swollen cock. His efforts of pulling away or screaming resulted only in making the lackey more eager and he tightened his fist and rubbed the sandpaper on Dean’s dick harder. Dean could feel his skin peeling, his muscles tensing and tears overflowing his eyes and all while he couldn’t do anything._

_Somewhere between his silent screaming and his dick being torn apart, he passed out._

_Once he opened his eyes he was in his concrete cage, laying in a pool of his own blood, vomit and urine. His dick was torn up and covered in blood, his asscheeks were stuck together with dried blood and lube and no one had come to save him…_

…He came awake from a sharp pain at his side. The force of the blow that caused the pain had him riling back and the next thing he knew, he was laying on his back on the bed, staring up at a pitch-black ceiling. His breath was coming in too hard, too short jabs and his racing heartbeat was relentless, if only getting faster. His eyes darted around the room frantically, trying to recognize his surroundings or at least what was happening but it was all too dark.

 

Suddenly, as he blinked, the ceiling became lit and he could hear someone else’s ragged breathing as well. Slowly, he turned his head to the side and saw Cas standing at the corner of the room with a hand wrapped around his throat and trying to catch his breath.

 

Then it started coming back to him. He had tried to choke Cas—not only that, he had tried to snap his neck in two. Cas had to knee him against the ribs to get him to stop. He tried to kill Castiel.

 

_You tried to kill Castiel._

 

“Dean?” He saw Cas’s lips moving from across the rom and heard the hoarse calling of his name but he couldn’t associate the two. “Are you okay?” the voice speaking was gravely; tired. “Please, Dean.”

 

Cas was talking to him but he could only hear the broken gasps and croaks of begging that he made when his throat was being squeezed underneath Dean’s fingers.

 

Dean had felt lost before; he had felt hurt and sick but never—never—anything like this. This time, he felt like there was nothing left inside him to feel with.

 

Other times, he jumped out of bed and ran to the shower in a haste. This time, he was calm; disturbingly calm as stood up and walked slowly to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. As he kneeled in front of the toilet and heaved and retched for all that he was worth. As he hurled when his eyes closed and he saw Castiel’s looking at him behind his closed lids.

 

_You tried to kill Castiel._

He was gagging and gasping but Castiel must’ve opened the door without Dean hearing him because the next thing Dean knew, Cas arms was gently turning him away from the toilet and into him. “That’s enough now.” He encouraged him to stop and the gesture only succeeded in making Dean more miserable.

 

He had tried to break Castiel’s neck and now Castiel was comforting him? _How perverse was that?_

 

But Dean couldn’t answer himself. He broke down sobbing in Castiel’s arms instead, selfishly taking what should have never been his in the first place. Greedily sucking out consolation from the man he had, only moments ago, tried to kill.

 

_You tried to kill Castiel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was a little angsty really, i admit it and i'm a little bit sorry... just a little ^-^
> 
> it was also pretty short so i'll make sure to upload the next one in a couple of days so we see what happens with Cas and Dean
> 
> I really hope you're enjoying reading this and please comment with anything you'd like :))))))))


	13. Abandon All Hope

Castiel eyed Dean’s unresponsive form warily. After the crying in the bathroom, Dean had been reduced to a completely passive heap of muscle, forcing Cas to push him under the shower just so he could get some sort of response out of him. He couldn’t.  Dean had merely gazed at the shower tiles, giving away nothing of the internal struggle Castiel was just sure was going on in the man’s head.

 

Once he’d realized the shower wasn’t going to cut it, he’d manhandled Dean out and dried him before dressing him in dry clothes and deposited him on the bed. Dean had shivered, Castiel guessed he was probably remembering what had just happened so Cas moved them both downstairs to the living room instead.

 

Now, he was still unable to shake Dean out of his stupor and he was, more than a little, freaking out. He instinctively brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and then felt a sharp pain as he pressed on the tender skin. Which reminded him what this was all about.

 

“Dean, I’m going to make a call, okay?” Castiel mumbled, even though he was almost sure Dean wouldn’t hear him.

 

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Crowley’s home number. The first call went to voice mail but he immediately redialed it, not bothering with leaving a message.

 

Crowley picked up on the third ring. “Who the hell is this?” he growled hoarsely, obviously still asleep. Maybe on some other time Cas would feel guilty. He only felt restless right now. Because Dean wouldn’t even look at him; he wouldn’t look at anything.

 

“It’s Castiel.” His voice caught on his throat and he coughed, trying to make his voice to come out.

 

Cas heard the shuffling of bedspreads. “Castiel? What’s wrong?” Crowley sounded worried and more alert, probably already out of the bed.

 

Castiel’s hand reached for the purple bruises already forming around his neck. He didn’t even want to think what they would like in a few hours. “I… I need some help.”

 

“Do you need me to come over?”

 

“No, no. Uhm…” Cas glanced at Dean’s hunched form, still unmoved and sitting on the couch, exactly where Castiel had left him. “Dean had a nightmare. Bad one.” Castiel coughed again, the use of his voice making his throat scrape. It felt as if it was bruised on the inside as well.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I… he’s completely out of it and I can’t get his attention.” Cas swallowed, his neck convulsing uncomfortably.

 

“Get an ice cube. Press it on the inside of his wrist.” Crowley instructed, his tone completely detached. Cas wasn’t sure why but he could tell Crowley had dealt with this before.

 

Cas spared Dean one more glance and hurried to the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He balanced the phone between his neck and his shoulder, the stretch putting pressure on the abrasions. “Are you sure this is going to work?” Cas asked as he grabbed an ice cube and shut the door to the freezer.

 

“It should. Castiel… did he try to hurt you?” Crowley’s tone was careful; measured, like he was afraid of Cas’s reaction. Or maybe his answer. Cas couldn’t tell.

 

“I… not exactly.” Cas sighed, stopping at the archway between the kitchen and the living room. “Listen, I got to go. What if this doesn’t work?”

 

Castiel could sense Crowley wanted to ask more and he supposed the only thing keeping him back was the fact the Cas wasn’t only a patient but a friend as well. Cas thought if it were a patient, he’d advise them to call someone else over, just to be safe.

 

“Try what brings him out of a standard panic attack.”

 

“Okay. Sorry for waking you and thanks.” Cas hanged up the phone without waiting for a reply and threw it on the armchair as he walked towards the couch.

 

Cas approached Dean with slow steps even though he wasn’t sure if Dean was registering it. Once he was next to him, he kneeled on the floor and pressed the ice cube on his wrist, like Crowley had instructed. He heard a sharp intake of breath but nothing more so he moved it to the other wrist. This time, Dean’s entire body convulsed, dislodging the ice cube so it feel on the carpet.

 

Castiel thought about getting another one to try again but Dean slowly turned to look at him, his eyes inspecting Castiel before finally settling on his neck. He hesitantly extended his hand and Cas had to force himself not to flinch, knowing it would hurt Dean even more. Because, truth was, Castiel was the one with the bruises but he had never seen anyone in as much hurt as Dean was right now.

 

Dean’s hand softly wrapped itself around Castiel’s neck, covering the bruises and making his hairs stand on end. Dean dragged his eyes away from his neck and brought them to Cas’s eyes, completely unguarded and truthful. “I am so, so sorry.” He whispered, his hand never leaving Castiel’s throat but minutely tightening around it.

 

“It’s—” Cas tried to comfort him but Dean he shook his head.

 

“You have no idea how sorry I am.” Dean mumbled before moving from the couch so he could kneel on the carpet in front of Castiel. “I… this should never have happened.” Dean’s voice broke and his other hand cupped Cas’s neck as well, engulfing the abused skin. Cas wasn’t sure if Dean was trying to erase what had happened, to keep from seeing it, or if he was trying to anchor himself to it.

 

“Dean—”

 

“I tried to kill you.” Dean sounded like he was in wonder. In wonder of how he could even do something like that.

 

Castiel supposed he should be wondering as well. He should be afraid of Dean doing it again only… he wasn’t. He knew the man he saw when he had opened his eyes and tried to fight for his life wasn’t Dean. The man’s eyes were open but it wasn’t Dean’s eyes.

 

When Cas had woken up to the sharp feeling of hands crushing his neck and restricting his breathing, trying to suffocate him, he’d looked up and he’d seen a pair of cold, disassociated eyes looking down at him. They were overflowing with frenzy and anger and fear and for a moment, Cas had been too surprised to do anything but gasp. When he’d finally managed to pull himself together, he’d knocked Dean over with his knee, successfully escaping his unforgiving grip but he’d known that man wasn’t really Dean.

 

“No you didn’t. That wasn’t you.” Cas argued, his neck moving under Dean’s hand. Dean’s hands instinctively tightened against the movement but it didn’t feel restricting. It felt soothing, like Dean was trying to caress away the hurt.

 

“Yes it was.” Dean swallowed. “I remember it Castiel. I tried to break your neck.” Dean whispered, smiling macabrely.

 

“No Dean. That wasn’t you. I remember it, too and I am telling you, it wasn’t you.”

 

“This should never have happened.” Dean repeated. “I… this was a mistake.” Dean took his hands away from Castiel’s neck and moved to stand up.

 

“Dean!” Castiel said finally, hand reaching out to grab Dean’s. “I love you. This was… it was bad, okay? I’m not gonna lie but… I love you. It’s gonna take a little bit more than you trying to choke me in a state of panic in order to call this a mistake.” Castiel tried reasoning with him.

 

“How can you say that?” Dean asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. He sounded pained and Cas’s words made him cringe.

 

“Dean please. Can we just. Talk about it?”

 

“Talk about what? How I tried to kill you?” Dean huffed, incredulous. He didn’t make a moved to leave though, which Cas considered a success.

 

Cas would have rolled his eyes at that because it was truly ridiculous but he couldn’t find the courage to do so right now. He knew it was going to take a hot of convincing to get that thought out of Dean’s head. He stood up and moved to the couch, dragging Dean with him. “I pushed you into this.” Castiel started, placing his finger on Dean’s lips when the man tried to argue. “No, I did. If you’re gonna insist on having tried to kill me, then I’ll insist on having pressured you. We didn’t talk about it—which we should have—and I think this was what brought this on.” He took his finger away. “Now you can talk.”

 

“I don’t care what brought it on, Castiel. I wrapped my hands around your neck and tried to crush, to fucking _crush_ , your trachea. There is no excuse for that.”

 

“Did you do it consciously?” Castiel challenged, determined to show Dean his side of the coin.

 

“I… no.” he admitted quietly. “But—”

 

“But what? That says it all. You weren’t conscious when you were doing it.” Cas pointed out. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?” he asked, his voice softer.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean muttered, eyes glued to Cas’s neck.

 

“Of course it does. If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine, I won’t push you but…” he let the sentence hang in the air, not sure how to finish it.

 

After a few minutes, Dean broke their silence. “I dreamed about the first time they made me like it.” he whispered, the words coming out forced. “The first time they—those scars on my dick? They are from sandpaper. I dreamed about the first time they used it on me.”

 

Cas had noticed the scars but hadn't thought twice about them, more focused on what he was doing at the moment to care. He cursed himself for his carelessness and hoped he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

 

He wrapped his arms around Dean, not knowing another way to comfort him; to make it better for him. Dean tensed but he didn’t move to pull away, instead slowly inching closer.

 

Cas felt lost though. He was used to being able to help people. He was supposed to have the answers, give people hope, fix them when they were dying and yet, the person for whom he cared the most, he couldn’t help. He could do nothing but sit on a couch and hug Dean in the hope it would convey onto him even a small part of Cas’s support. It was maddening, to have so many thoughts or feelings drenching into his chest and he couldn’t get them out.

 

“There is no excuse for what I did Cas.” Dean mouthed against Cas’s neck, making him squirm.

 

“I know. I’m sorry, too.” Cas said eventually, burying his face against Dean’s own neck. He felt lost and he didn’t like feeling that way. He wanted to help Dean but he couldn’t. He wanted to make this right but he couldn’t undo time. He could only sit here, his arms wrapped around Dean and his face in the crook of the man’s shoulder and love him. “I love you.”

 

“I’m sorry that I love you, too, Castiel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like and as always, make sure to comment :)


	14. Trial and Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley shows up again and kinda helps Dean

Dean sat on a couch in the waiting room, trying not to think what got him there in the first place. He tried to keep himself from fidgeting or twitching with no real success and keep all thoughts of Castiel out of his head.

 

The past three days he hadn’t even gone to work. All he could think was ‘you tried to kill Castiel’ and that was not something he wanted in his head when he was handling an attack riffle. Yesterday, Castiel had given him Dr. McLeod’s phone number and Dean hadn’t wasted any time in scheduling an appointment. He wasn’t sure if the doctor knew Dean had tried to kill his friend but even if he didn’t, it would come out eventually.

 

Truth was, Dean knew he should be getting as far away as he could from Castiel and save him the trouble. Because Cas was just the kind of guy who couldn’t leave when another person needed them, when another person was hurt. So, Dean had to be the strong one here and leave Castiel for good.

 

The problem was, he honestly didn’t want to. He had left him once and it was… bearable. Sure, it had hurt him and Castiel but he had done it and came out whole. If he tried it again though, this time, he wasn’t sure he’d make it. This was their friggin’ second chance; it was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be meant to be.

 

“Dean Winchester?” A man, Dr. McLeod he supposed, brought him out of his stupor.

 

“Yes.” Dean stood up, straightening his jeans in an effort to look more presentable next to the impeccable black suit the man was wearing.

 

“I’m Dr. McLeod.” The doctor offered Dean his hand to shake before leading them into the office.

 

If it was possible, the office was even more formal than the doctor. It was all red and black, conjuring a Goth effect that was simultaneously strange and calming. Dr. McLeod gestured to a black leather armchair for Dean to take a seat and joined him on an identical one across from him.

 

“What brings you here, Dean?” he asked, flipping open a notepad on his lap.

 

“Uhm, didn’t Castiel tell you?” Dean had supposed the doctor already knew about him.

 

“He has told me some things. I would like it to hear it from you, though.” The doctor encouraged him.

 

“Cas said something about you and a new perspective. I think I need a new perspective.” _One that will keep from trying to off my boyfriend._

 

“I don’t want to be presumptuous but I suppose your perspective suffers due to what’s happened to you?”

 

Dean nodded, holding back an obscene laugh once he realized this was the first step to recovery; admitting the problem. “When I was on my second tour to Iraq, me and my unit were sent on a scouting charge. Something went wrong; we were ambushed by Iraqi nationalists and my unit was killed. Me and another guy survived and we were taken hostage by the nationalists. We were held for thirteen months.” It felt surprisingly uneventful to say the words, Dean realized. He wasn’t expecting fireworks or anything but he was expecting something more. More than the familiar emptiness that talking about what happened to him often ensued. Despite his expectation though, he admitted to himself that emptiness was better than shame or humiliation and he shrugged.

 

The doctor displayed no emotion to Dean’s confession and Dean found himself disproportionately relieved. “Thank you for telling me that. First, I want to clarify that I see a lot of PTSD patients, a lot of retired soldiers who are having trouble adjusting to this life. I have some experience and some footing but I need you to tell me precisely. I know it can be difficult but I need you to say the words.”

 

Dean didn’t know why it would be difficult with him. It had been difficult with Castiel. With his first (and last therapist), he didn’t even have to tell them what happened. She worked with the VA, she had seen the pictures and the reports and she knew. Dean wondered if maybe he could get those to this doctor and make it easier on them both.

 

But he had promised to try. He had promised himself to do his best. “I was tortured for thirteen months. Physically and sexually.” He said solemnly, careful to keep his eyes on a spot over the doctor’s shoulder to avoid looking at him.

 

“Thank you for being honest, Dean. I’m sure Castiel already mentioned this but I also see many victims of both physical and sexual abuse.” The doctor started tentatively. For some reason Dean found his tone strangely soothing. “What I have found out is that you need to work for it. It’s not like flipping a switch. You can’t say ‘I want to be better’ and actually be better after a couple of sessions. You have, absolutely have, to work towards feeling better.”

 

“I know that and… I want to, now. It took me some time but I think I’m ready.”

 

“Okay, then. We should start with the basics. Why now?”

 

“I…” how was it that he found it more challenging to admit to having tried to hurt Castiel than being sexually abused? “I had a nightmare—really bad nightmare. I tried to… I tried to choke Castiel to death.”

 

“That was what compelled you to do it _now_. That was your incentive.” He didn’t seem unfazed by hearing the news. Dean tried not to think about why that was. “But what is the basis?” he challenged.

 

“I know this isn’t the right answer because you’re supposed to do therapy for yourself but… I really want to be better. For Castiel. I want to be better for him.”

 

“It’s the right answer as long as it’s working for you.” The doctor assured him. “And just in case you’re wondering, I won’t ask you to talk about your nightmares right now. You can if you want to but I won’t pressure you if you feel like it’s making you uncomfortable.”

 

Dean released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He knew he would eventually have to talk about everything but he wasn’t sure he could right away. He hoped he would feel more confident once he got to know Dr. McLeod better.

 

“Thanks.” Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You didn’t seem surprised—when I told you about the nightmare and Castiel.”

 

“I saw the bruises.” The doctor said gravely. “And he called me that night. He wanted to know how to bring you out of it.”

 

“Oh, the ice-cube. That was your idea?” Dean had wondered about that since it was the first he’d heard of it.

 

“Yes, which actually brings me to my next question. Do you experience PTSD episodes often?”

 

Dean thought about it for a moment, trying to determine what would classify as ‘often’. “Before I saw Cas here, I hadn’t had a panic attack in months and the nightmares were getting much less frequent.” Dean said quickly. “Ever since he and I started… you know, they’ve become more recurrent.”

 

“But you don’t blame Cas for that.” it wasn’t really a question. More like a statement that had the doctor surprised.

 

“Why would I?” Dean asked, honestly curious.

 

The doctor smiled knowingly. Clearly Dean was missing something. “Most people in your position would. You’re doing fine, then he comes along and you have to relive everything.”

 

“I don’t see it like that, I guess. I mean I just have to face things that I had kept hidden for a long time. They probably would have resurfaced in any case.” Dean shrugged but he didn’t think the doctor wanted him to start blaming Castiel. Maybe he was trying to get Dean to see something? Damn, this therapy business was complicated.

 

“That’s good.” He kept smiling. “These things, did they start resurfacing only because of the physical aspect of yours and Castiel’s relationship?”

 

Dean bit his lip, trying to put his thoughts in order. “Uhm, I don’t think so. Sure, part of it is the sex but… I think I had forgotten what it was like, y’ know? Being loved—loved by Castiel. He just makes me want to tear down everything keeping us apart and just… be with him. I don’t know if any of this makes sense.” Dean shifted consciously. He really wanted to make this work this time.

 

“You’re doing great.” Dr. McLeod nodded. “And I think you’re at a great advantage here because you have motivation. Castiel is motivating you but you also need to keep in mind that you will still have setbacks. He isn’t a magic cure.”

 

“Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying.” Dean’s mind drifted back to the days before ‘The Nightmare’. “I think… yeah, we moved a little fast the other night.”

 

“The other night?” the doctor inquired.

 

“Didn’t Castiel tell you?” Dammit, this was confusing; not knowing what the doctor knew.

 

Dr. McLeod chuckled and Dean noticed he hadn’t taken down a single note during their session. “Okay, this is getting messy. From now on, you will talk to me like I don’t know anything. Like Castiel hasn’t told me anything. Now, let’s try again.”

 

“Yeah, I think that’ll work.” Dean swallowed, trying to come up with an eloquent way of describing handjobs and blowjobs. “I—we… are you sure you want to hear this?”

 

“Dean, you’ve suffered sexual and physical abuse. Trust me when I tell you, we two will probably talk a great deal about sex.”

 

It was Dean’s turn to chuckle and he was startled to find that he was getting more comfortable by the minute. “I guess that is a good point. We, well I jerked him off and then I went back to my house to sleep and I was expecting a nightmare, right? But, I sorta got a wet dream instead and I, for the first time in a long time, managed to jerk myself off and enjoy it.” He was fully aware of his blush but the doctor was right. They would be discussing sex a lot and he might as well just get it over with. “I know it doesn’t sound like much but to me… it’s amazing.”

 

“I can see why that is.” The doctor nodded, exhibiting genuine understanding much to Dean’s surprise. “And because of that, of how well you took yours and Castiel’s first sexual encounter, you rightly thought you had defeated it? Your past.”

 

Dean had expected the doctor to be good but the dude was just… insightful. It made it a lot easier to talk when he knew Dr. McLeod caught on quickly. “Yes, exactly. So, a couple of days later, Cas was really… you know, he gets into this blameful stupor where he thinks everything is his fault and I just wanted to make him feel better. And we started kissing and he gave me a blowjob and other than a couple of menial freak-outs it was great.” Dean explained, still trying to figure out what had gone wrong and triggered such a violent reaction out of him.

 

“And then you had the nightmare?” Dr. McLeod asked quietly, as if he didn’t want to interrupt Dean’s train of thought.

 

Dean nodded his agreement and focused on stopping the nasty voice that told him he tried to kill Castiel. Lately, that was all he seemed to be able to think about.

 

“That is perfectly understandable.” The doctor pointed out and even his tone was like this was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Dean narrowed his eyes, genuinely trying to see the man’s point. “I tried to kill my boyfriend in his sleep. Which part of that is understandable?” Dean demanded and for the first time since he got here, he started remembering why he had given up on therapy the first time around.

 

“Firstly, it was in your sleep as well, not only his.” Dr. McLeod clarified calmly. “And you have years of pent up sexual tension and frustration built up inside you, Dean. Then suddenly, you demolish the dam keeping them at bay. Of course things are going come gushing out. And they are gonna be ugly and hurtful and disgusting but these things, they are not who you are.”

 

“I tried to kill Castiel, are you kidding me?” Dean insisted, feeling his temper build up.

 

The doctor though remained absolutely unfazed. It was as if, the more upset Dean got, the more relaxed he made Dr. McLeod. “I see that is what you think and it will take a hell of a lot more than a session with me or even hours of Cas telling you otherwise but that was not you. Or at least, it wasn’t you trying to kill Castiel.” He raised his hand to stop Dean when he tired to argue. “You said it was a bad nightmare, right? Would you say, it was one of the worst?”

 

“Probably _the_ worst.” Dean confessed only a little unwillingly.

 

The doctor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then maybe you felt the need to protect yourself. Maybe your body, unconscious as it was, sensed Castiel’s body next to it as a threat. Maybe you were only trying to protect yourself.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to argue again but the way he had promised to try therapy so he had to listen. He repeated the doctor’s words in his head, over and over until they had muffled out the nasty voice that was trying to convince him he was murderer. The way the doctor had put it, it made sense. The dam broke and things came gushing out. Castiel was touching in his sleep but his torturer was touching in his dream. Castiel touched him lovingly but the torturer haltingly; could he tell the difference?

 

But not when he was sleeping. Not so soon after he had had sex for the first time after his captivity. No, at that time, the torturer’s ugliness was too much, even with Castiel at his side.

 

When Dean came back to himself from his realization, Dr. McLeod was looking at him with a quirked brow and smiling. “I couldn’t tell the difference between Castiel and my torturer.” He said finally.

 

“Yes.” The doctor nodded, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

 

“I… I hadn’t realized that.” Dean mumbled, positively stunned.

 

The doctor sobered, his self-satisfied grin replaced by utter seriousness. “That’s why I’m here.”

 

“And what now?” Now that Dean knew he couldn’t help wonder if it was going to be like this every time between him and Castiel.

 

“You mean how do you work on it?” he waited for Dean’s nod. “My suggestion would be to obviously take it slow but slow with regards to sleeping as well. For example try sleeping merely next to each other, without touching. Then gradually take it from there until you can sleep in the same bed, touching fully without feeling any triggers. Get used to each other’s presence and if you feel like you might hurt him on one night, don’t sleep in the same room. And definitely talk before escalating sexually—although, judging from your face right now you don’t really want to escalate sexually.”

 

Dean snorted at how well the doctor could read him. “I just… well, before the nightmare I’d say ‘bring it on’ or something but… I feel like all the progress Castiel and I had made just turned to shreds.”

 

“That’s not true.” The doctor frowned. “This was a setback, Dean. Sure it was a considerable one but a setback nonetheless. You and Castiel are going to have dozens of those but that doesn’t mean everything you’ve worked for is suddenly destroyed. It merely means next time you know what you should pay extra attention to.”

 

Dean shrugged, uncertain. He could see the doctor’s point but he couldn’t quite make it his own.

 

“This isn’t a sprint run, Dean. This is a marathon. And you’re going to trip and fall and get hurt and tired and get back up again and then, you’re going to do it all over again until, at some point, you’re going to stop falling or, when you fall, you’re going to know how to deal with it.”

 

Dean thought on that for a moment before nodding. “That makes some sense, actually.” He agreed.

 

Dr. McLeod feigned humility. “Well, I do try.”

 

*****

 

Dean unlocked the door to his house to find Castiel pacing in the living room, undoubtedly conjuring up worst-case scenarios about Dean’s therapy session. Once Castiel heard him come in his eyes shot up from the floor and he stopped dead in his tracks. Even though Dean couldn’t be sure from this distance, he thought Castiel might be holding his breath. Because that was just Castiel. After so many deaths and tragic outcomes, his mind was programmed to think the worst.

 

“It wasn’t bad.” Dean said as soon as he noticed the look on his face, not wanting to prolong his misery. He closed the door behind him and walked to Castiel.

 

“Really?” Cas asked, hopeful, because even though he didn’t pressure Dean to share his views on this particular matter, he thought therapy could really help. “I mean, what did you think of him? How was he? Did he make you feel weird?”

 

Dean found Cas’s fuzzing endearing. “Hey, slow down, Cas.” He chuckled. “I think he’s very different, intriguing even, a little arrogant but it suits him. He was very understanding and he didn’t even seem surprised or anything when I told him about the abuse and the nightmare. And, yeah, of course I felt weird but it wasn’t anything unbearable.”

 

Castel breathed out, visibly relieved and rubbed the back of his neck. Dean couldn’t help but follow Cas’s hand as it touched over the purple and now yellow bruises fading away around his neck. Dean could tell just by looking at them that they were painful. Cas had even had to take a day off work because they were so bad he could barely move his head at all. Dean had insisted on staying with him that day and doing everything he could to make him more comfortable. Not that it would erase the fact that he tried to choke Cas to death, he thought macabrely.

 

The most surprising thing however, was that Castiel didn’t even seem fazed by it. Sure, the first couple of times Dean tried to touch his neck he had flinched but other than that, he seemed to be perfectly okay.

 

Dean took another step toward Castiel so their bodies were practically touching. This was the closet they’d been since the nightmare. He reached out and softly wrapped his hand around the bruises, careful to keep his touch light and not cause Cas any more pain. Castiel removed his own hand and let it fall to his side as Dean leaned down and kissed the angriest part of the bruises. A nasty blue and purple mark shaped like his fingers. He took care to kiss every part of the traumatized skin and lick at the welts, trying to suck out all the hurt, and maybe even the memory away.

 

He couldn’t do that though and he realized this probably wouldn’t be the first time he’d feel like this. Dr. McLeod was right, there was a long way ahead to recovery but Dean was confident he could do it. He _would_ do it. He would do it for Cas and himself because he _did_ deserve to be happy; they both did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i should point out i don't know jack about therapy and google resources may not be completely reliable or informative sometimes so Crowley's work methods and ethics aren't too accurate.
> 
> other than that, i really hope you enjoy and make sure to comment so i can smile to myself like a lunatic ^-^


	15. Sacrifice

Cas snapped on a pair of white plastic gloves and took a seat on the stool, dragging the surgical suture kit next to him. He was working the ER shift tonight and this was the fifth patient he had to give stiches to this hour. The watch over the nurse’s station confirmed it was dinnertime and so knife and culinary accidents in general were prone to happen.

 

“This is gonna sting a little.” He smiled at the girl he was currently working on before injecting her palm with a topical anesthetic. She had a nasty gush from a kitchen knife, cutting a couple of inches across her palm. Cas guessed she would need at least three to five stitches and he took hold of the needle, finding a strange sense of quietness in the familiar task. Sometimes, surgeries tended to get too stressful and he liked doing something idle instead.

 

“Hey, your phone is ringing.” The girl pointed to the trey, where Cas had left his phone and his pager, with her free hand.

 

Cas crooked his neck to see the caller ID and read Crowley’s name on the screen. He decided to call back once he was finished only he checked the clock again and realized Dean would be just getting finished with his session right about now. “Uhm, could you excuse me for a moment?” he said to the girl and grabbed his phone and pager from the trey. “Hey, Meg, you mind finishing up for me?” Cas asked his head nurse but left without waiting for a reply.

 

He walked outside to the empty ambulance bay and redialed Crowley’s number, trying herd to ignore every horrid possibility running through his mind. Hell, it was probably nothing, Cas reasoned. Dean had been seeing Crowley for almost three weeks now with no incident so there was really no reason to worry.

 

“Castiel. Are you at work?” Crowley asked as soon as he picked up and that wasn’t doing jack to ease Cas’s inevitable worrying streak.

 

“Yeah. Is everything okay?”

 

“Uhm… actually, I was wondering if you could maybe stay with Dean tonight? Just go by his house or something?”

 

“Did something happen?” Cas asked but he was already heading back inside to get dressed to leave.

 

“Just a rough session but I’d feel a lot better if he wasn’t alone.” There was some nervousness in Crowley’s usually perfectly calm tone. “I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told him ahead and made sure you were here to pick him up but I wasn’t planning on it either.” He said quickly, as if he could sense Castiel’s temper rising at his carelessness.

 

Cas sighed but he knew there was no use arguing now. All he wanted was to get to Dean’s house and make sure he was okay. “It’s fine. I’m going now.” he mumbled before hanging up and going to find another doctor to cover for him in the pit.

 

******

 

Cas found himself in Dean’s living room less than an hour later, with Dean standing stiffly in front of him. Cas was relieved because even though he wasn’t completely clear on what he was expecting, Dean looked pretty put together.

 

Cas closed the door behind him and took a couple of steps closer to Dean. He could see how his hair was wet and there was a pink flush peaking out from his shirt. Cas recognized the familiar signs; Dean had been rubbing too harshly at his skin.

 

“Did Crowley tell you to check up on me?” Dean shoved his hands in his jean’s pockets, swaying on the balls of his feet.

 

“Yeah.” There was no use lying in any case, Cas knew. “He said you had a rough session.”

 

Dean’s only response was a shrug and Cas, for a minute, he thought he would have preferred some frantic confusion coming from Dean rather than this subtle calmness. He pushed the thought away as soon as he got it however because if Dean was handling it then Cas shouldn’t try and make it harder on him.

 

Dean didn’t look like he was handling it though. And he didn’t look at Cas either. He looked squarely at the floor like it had the magic ability to provide him with long sought answers or something.

 

Cas was deliberating between calling him out on it or simply following Dean’s example and ignoring it when his phone started chirping in his pocket. The ringtone went off and Dean jumped up, startled, his eyes wide and Cas saw him swallow. He saw him try to keep himself from moving away and saw him talking himself down. That this was just a cellphone and not a threat and really, what he saw made Cas’s mind up for him.

 

He quickly switched it off, not bothering to check the caller and walked over to the living room, where Dean was currently forcing himself still. He stopped a shy two feet away from him and waited until Dean gave him a sign that it was alright to come closer. Cas didn’t like dancing around him but he often himself doing so, especially after therapy sessions.

 

“Can you…” Dean cleared his throat, his hand coming out of his pocket and stretching out towards Castiel. “Bed?” he finished softly and Cas hated how vulnerable he sounded.

 

He took hold of Dean’s hand and wordlessly pulled him down the hallway to the bedroom. Dean came willingly but Cas could still feel tension rolling off him in waves. When they got inside, Cas let him go and presumed to take off his coat and shoes as Dean laid down on the bed on his side. They had both discovered, especially after a tough session, Dean felt safest when they were laying together and he could feel Cas’s solid body next to him. Objectively, Cas would have thought it to be the opposite, Dean getting antsy around Castiel but he liked knowing he could do this for Dean. That he could do even this little part to ease his confusion or his hurt.

 

Cas laid down beside him, not too close since they had agreed to take a few moments to get used to each other like this. It had been one of Crowley’s ideas to start sleeping in the same bed, even without touching and sure, at first it had been challenging and Cas was sure, the first time they tried it after the nightmare neither of them had gotten any sleep but by now, it was only minutes before Dean started to slowly inch closer to him.

 

Dean was tentative this time though, as if he expected Cas to push him away at any moment and Cas never wanted him to feel like that, like anything short of wanted so he reached and pulled him closer himself so Dean was half sprawled over him on his side. They hadn’t felt comfortable enough to try Cas’s chest to Dean’s back yet but this was more than enough.

 

Dean went frigid at first and Cas was used to it by now, how Dean would tense sometimes if Cas touched him but it still hurt a little. On a few nights, if Cas happened to be alone and after a particularly rough night in the hospital, he would find himself wondering if Dean would ever stop tensing or even if he _could_ but he shuts these thoughts off for tonight.

 

Cas concentrated on the ceiling over him instead, still brightly lit as he let his fingers softly trail over Dean’s spine, almost unconsciously. Dean leaned into the touch and Cas felt Dean’s fingers splaying out on his chest without having to look down to see them. Dean relaxed on top of Cas’s chest and persistent stiffness started bleeding out of his muscles, his leg coming to rest over Cas’s. He felt socked-covered toes rub at his ankle and his breath hitched because it was familiar and comfortable and it made him warm inside in ways he didn’t wan to admit out loud. Yeah, on nights like these, he thought—no, he knew—Dean could and would eventually stop twitching when Cas touched him.

 

“Sometimes, I would pretend it was you.” Dean said quietly, almost guiltily, the words coming out muffled against Cas’s shirt.

 

The shift in conversation pulled him out of his haze and forced him into a state of alertness because this was why had come here in the first place. “What was me?”

 

Dean didn’t answer, seemingly content to keep laying with his head tucked under Cas’s chin and his fingers tapping idly on Cas’s chest. The words, when they came, were unexpected and managed to shock Castiel more than a little bit. “Torturing me. And raping me and beating me.”

 

Cas stilled in place, exhaling somewhat exaggeratedly. That first thing that came to mind was disgust or hatred. Repulsion. Directed at him. And then wonder because Dean was letting Cas touch him despite of that?

 

Cas forced himself to keep it together, to keep breathing normally even though he felt anything but, to keep holding onto Dean while he really wanted to jump off the bed.

 

“I’m sorry.” Dean mumbled but he made no move to roll off Castiel, surprising him. Cas supposed, judging by Dean’s voice and breathing, he felt too exhausted to move much right now.

 

“I… why?” Cas winced even as he asked. He didn’t want to make Dean feel bad but at the same time, he needed to know how he could stand Cas being close to him right now. How he could even look at him.

 

He felt Dean shrug against his side. “When they were too rough and I couldn’t take it. When they ordered me to like it.” he said soberly and Cas though, maybe, just maybe he could see his point. “When we were together I enjoyed it so it didn’t feel as bad when I thought it was you.”

 

Cas’s chest grew tight and he instantly regretted his earlier impulse to turn away from Dean’s grasp. Dean imagined it was Cas because Cas made him feel safe. Even at his worst, Dean felt at ease with him and even though Cas would never understand how Dean imagining it was Cas violating his body would make that kind of abuse remotely tolerable, he tried to, for Dean.

 

“I’m sorry.” Dean said again, resignation seeping into his voice and Cas couldn’t blame him.

 

“Why are you sorry?” Cas found himself asking after a while, when he felt confident he was over the shock that came with Dean’s confession.

 

“It feels like, when I brought you into it, I tainted everything we did together.” Dean spoke with staggering honesty. It could have been because his inhibitions were lowered after his session with Crowley and the words came uncensored. “I understand, you know, if you want to leave.” His tone was neutral and he gave a short chuckle, which felt more like a huff. “I probably would if I were you.”

 

“No you wouldn’t.” Cas tightened his arm around Dean’s shoulder because he was sure of his words. “And I don’t want to leave. I was little shocked but I think I get—I am trying to get it.” Cas corrected himself. He didn’t get it but he would try. It was the least he could do. “And you didn’t taint anything Dean. I… I am grateful for whatever gave you courage to survive.” Cas was stunned for a moment by his won sincerity. He hadn’t realized how deeply he had meant that until he’d said so out loud. He truly was grateful though because Cas had witnessed enough pain and misery to know surviving wasn’t easy. It wasn’t a given and it shouldn’t be taken for granted.

 

When Dean spoke again his voice was quieter. Like admitting to everything else had been easy but saying this was the hardest. “I… thank you.” He pushed further into Cas’s side, brought his arm over Cas’s chest and held him close. “Can you stay?” Dean sounded so small when he asked that it made Cas’s chest tight.

 

“Of course.” He agreed instantly and placed a kiss onto Dean’s still damp hair. “I’ll always stay.”

 

“Thank you.” Dean said and Cas had a feeling he didn’t mean just staying the night so he moved his free arm to rest on top of Dean’s on his chest, fingers wrapping tightly around Dean’s forearm.

 

“Anything for you.” He had to push the words out, fighting the sudden bulge in his throat. Truth was, Cas would do anything and even though in this case, anything wasn’t much, he’d try. Because every time Dean leaned into his touch or trusted him to talk like this, completely exposed and earnest, Cas’s skin prickled and he felt anchored. He felt like he was living and holding onto his life, not just drifting in and out of it. He felt like he was loved, despite himself and he felt like he loved back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter wasn't really anything much, more like a filler before the good stuff ;)))


	16. Changing Channels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i believe this genuinely qualifies as fluff ;)

Castiel was stirred awake by the annoying beeping of his alarm. Without opening his eyes, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone, swiping his thumb blindly over the welcome screen. The beeping stopped and he turned to his side with a groan. He stretched his arms over his head before rubbing a hand over his eyes and forcing them open.

 

The first things he saw was Dean standing across from him, still in his SWAT uniform and staring at him. “Holly shit!” Castiel jumped back, surprised and admittedly a little scared.

 

“Good Morning.” Dean said, smiling. He was friggin smiling. And placing a paper cup of steaming coffee on the nightstand for Castiel.

 

“What are you doing here? It’s seven AM.” Cas squinted because his brain wasn’t at full function at seven in the morning.

 

“I thought you might want some company.” Dean explained, starting to unstrap his Kevlar vest.

 

“It’s seven AM. You were staring. And I was seeping.” Castiel repeated disbelievingly but Dean’s response was a shrug. A shrug! As if this was the most natural thing in the world.

 

“You do it all the time.” Dean pointed out, completely calm as he bended over to remove his boots. He kicked them to the side and then removed his gun belt, placing it on the armchair behind him.

 

Castiel shook his head because this was just getting funky. As in weirdly funky; even for Dean. “Are you okay?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, completely calm and pulled his long sleeved shirt over his head.

 

 _Yeah_ , Castiel was not about to fall for that. After all, in the past five weeks that Dean had been visiting Crowley, instances like these were getting much more common. After his sessions, even days later sometimes, Dean would seem so emotionally and mentally drained that he could barely make it through the day. At first, there were days where Dean was completely withdrawn, flinching away from Castiel when he tried to touch him. Every one of those days, Cas would need to fight with himself about intruding and trying to make it better because Dean needed to find his own way sometimes. And some other days, if Dean came to him, wordlessly seeking out his touch or mere presence, Cas would always give him that.

 

Lately though, it was as if Dean was constantly thinking about something and every once in a while, Castiel could see he was literally _this_ close to facing Cas about it but he stopped short every time.

 

So Castiel wasn’t letting this go. “Dean, slow down. Come here.” Castiel wiggled to the edge of the bed so his legs were hanging over to the side and patted the mattress next to him.

 

Dean seemed to think on Castiel’s suggestion for a moment but then his lips turned into a thin line and he joined Castiel on the bed.

 

Cas didn’t confront him about it immediately, instead giving Dean some time to get used to their contact. He had discovered that if he allowed Dean some time to get comfortable, the other man was much less likely to close off and get agitated.

 

Their thighs and shoulders were touching and Cas placed a hand on Dean’s knee. He was careful with his movements because ever since The Nightmare, Dean seemed a lot more apprehensive. Castiel didn’t know if it was because his therapy sessions brought back memories or maybe because he didn’t trust Castiel as much anymore. Frankly, even if it were the second of the two, Castiel wouldn’t be able to hold it against him. He knew he had pressured Dean into doing something he wasn’t ready for and only because he had had a bad day at work.

 

“Stop doing that.” Dean said suddenly, pulling Castiel away from his thoughts.

 

Cas was about to ask what _that_ was but Dean interrupted him. “And don’t play stupid.” His voice was tight like he really wanted to snap at Castiel but was barely holding it together.

 

“Dean, I’m—”

 

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Dean said quickly. He turned around on the bed so he was facing Castiel and kneeling on the mattress. Both his hands gripped Castiel’s as green eyes locked onto his. “Cas, I’m really, really trying here. You have no idea how hard I’m trying but _this_ , this can’t happen.” Dean gestured with his hand between them.

 

Castiel’s heart literally skipped a beat at the thought that Dean would want to end this. Sure, Cas had screwed up, he knew so, but Dean had said over and over that it was okay, that they were okay. And now he wanted them to end what they had. This was supposed to be _it_ , dammit. This was supposed their second chance. Their second chance so they could avoid mistakes of the past. So they could actually make it through.

 

“Dean, no, please don’t say that. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Cas started frantically, desperate for a way to prevent this. “I’m just… please don’t do this.” He pleaded him, completely indifferent to things like dignity because this was Dean.

 

Dean seemed completely taken aback by Castiel’s reaction and pulled him closer when Castiel tried to get off the bed. “Wait, what do you think I’m talking about?” Dean asked slowly.

 

“Ending this.” Cas spat out, the words leaving an acidy taste in his mouth.

 

Dean stayed there for a minute, as if frozen and Cas turned away from him. “Cas.” He said, like he felt sorry for him. “Can you look at me?”

 

When Castiel didn’t turn away from the invisible spot on the carpet he kept his eyes glued on, Dean reached out and cupped his chin, forcing him to look up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Dean was smiling gently. “I meant, you need to stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean and moved away a little. “What?” he asked but he couldn’t help relief from seeping into his voice.

 

Dean was smiling widely now, tipping his head to the side as if he was evaluating Castiel. “I really should have phrased this better, right then.” He chuckled and Castiel joined him, somewhat nervously. “Let me start again.” He waited for Castiel’s nod. “I meant to say, I’m working my ass off with Crowley for me, yes but also for you. For us. Because I want this to work but it can’t work if you keep treating me like I’m going to break.”  

 

Had Castiel been doing that? Sure, he was a little more tentative but had he made Dean feel like that?

 

“I’ve learnt some things in the past few weeks and what I know is that we can’t work if you don’t trust me.” Dean said slowly, trying to get this point across to Castiel.

 

“Do _you_ trust _me_?” Castiel couldn’t help but ask because this was one of his greatest insecurities. That Dean didn’t trust him; or didn’t trust him enough to stay with him.

 

“Of course I do.” Dean replied without a moment of hesitation and Cas felt weeks of tension roll off of him. “I’m sorry if I was a little distant at first but you should know, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It was because I didn’t trust myself to be close to you after what happened.”

 

“Oh, god, we’re impossible.” Cas mumbled, finally relaxing now that he was sure they could fix this. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t trust you. I do but… I pressured you that night and—”

 

“You didn’t.” Dean shook his head. “I know you think so but you didn’t Cas. That nightmare, it was bound to happen and I’m sorry you were here and had to be part of it.” Dean swallowed, the sound excessively loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“I know.” Cas whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Dean’s.

 

It was only when he noticed Dean’s breathing slow down and his head becoming heavier against this own that he realized Dean must be exhausted after working for the entire night. “Dean.” He rubbed the man’s back, making him stir. “Do you wanna lie down?” he suggested, already maneuvering him into a horizontal position.

 

Dean nodded against Cas’s neck and curled into himself once he was laying flat on the bed. He didn’t even bother with the covers or the rest of his clothes.

 

Castiel smiled at the picture Dean made in his bed and moved away so he could start getting ready for work, feeling much better than he had in a long time now that things between Dean and him were clearer.

 

Just as he was getting off the mattress Dean reached out and grabbed his hand. “Are you leaving?” he asked him quietly, probably only because he was half asleep as it was.

 

Cas sat on the bed with Dean’s hand still wrapped around his wrist. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly because he could take a day off work. Someone could take over his shift for him.

 

“Yeah. Please stay.” Dean muttered, half into the pillow and Cas climbed over his body and laid down behind him. They usually avoided this position because it made Dean feel too exposed and Cas was about to move so they could swap places but Dean’s hand on his hip kept him in place. “Like this.”

 

Castiel smiled and wrapped his arms around the man in front of him, bringing their bodies closer. When that didn’t get him any sort of flinch or twitch he placed a chaste kiss on Dean neck and buried his nose in his hair. He smelled gasoline and sweat and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of call Dean was on this time and whether or not it was dangerous.

 

Castiel tried not to think too hard on the implications of Dean’s job. He was sure if he went down that path he would probably develop heart failure from all the friggin stress. Because Dean was in a position where death was imminent at any given second. Because Dean could be rolled into the ER at any point during Castiel’s shift.

 

Castiel realized his heartbeat was getting faster and tried to clear his head. He wanted to enjoy this. Dean was in his arms right now and not on a call. Castiel allowed himself to relax and sighed, pressing even closer to Dean.

 

Abruptly, Dean’s barely audible voice made him stir and open his eyes. If Castiel hadn’t been holding him at that moment, he probably would have missed the question. “Do you think I’m disgusting?” Dean asked timidly, his entire body already tensing.

 

“Of course not.” Cas said instantly, his voice not leaving any room for arguing. “Why would you say that?” Castiel honestly thought Dean knew this since they had talked about it in the past. He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought this on.

 

Against him, he could Dean swallow and start to fidget. “You haven’t… I don’t know… you haven’t touched me. You have barely kissed him since that night.” Dean admitted, sounding resigned more than anything.

 

Castiel’s face twisted in anger and he was glad Dean was turned away from him and couldn’t see it. He had been so engrossed with his own feelings about that night that it hadn’t even crossed his mind that Dean might feel that way.

 

“I do not find you disgusting, Dean. And you have no idea how badly I want to touch you right now.” He let just a hint of desperation into his voice, needing to make his pint but not wanting to scare Dean. Because it was true. When they weren’t together, Castiel would let his mind drift and come up with different images of him and Dean together. Some were more graphic than others and even though he had no doubt that he and Dean would eventually get around to some of them, he preferred to leave the timing up to Dean.

 

“Really?” Dean voice hitched like he was both embarrassed and relieved at the same time.

 

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel whispered, pushing the boundaries a little further and speaking wetly against Dean’s ear. Dean shivered but he pushed back against Castiel, linking their fingers together on his stomach.

 

“Tell me.” Dean challenged but not in a teasing sort of way. He challenged Castiel like he really needed to know. Like he needed to know to believe he was worth and wanted. “What do you think about doing to me?”

 

“I think about…” _you need to stop treating me like I’m made of glass_ , Dean’s earlier words sprung into his mind and he stopped short. Dean was right; Castiel needed to trust him. “I think about kissing you until you’re breathless. Until your lips are all read and puffy and you can’t help but grind against me. Then, I think about starting to undress you. How I would take my time, touch every part of you with my hands and then with my tongue.” Castiel untangled his fingers from Dean’s and started running his hand from the man’s chest and all the way down to his hip and back again.

 

“I think about how I would kiss and suck and lick so hard on your chest that you’re going to have my marks all over your body.” Cas could feel himself starting to get hard and usually, he would angle his hips away from Dean but this time, he softly pressed them against him instead.

 

Dean tensed for a minute but before Castiel could second-guess his actions, he arched his back dug his fingers in Castiel’s hip, trying to pull him closer. “What else?” he asked, a little breathless.

 

“I think maybe I would suck you off then. Just a little, not until you come. Just get you all wound up and then flip you over onto your stomach.” Cas made an intentional pause, wanting to see how Dean would react.

 

To Castiel’s surprise, there was another moment of rigidness and then Dean buried his head in the pillow and grinded his ass against Castiel’s erection, albeit hesitantly.

 

“Then I would rim you.” he said confidently, already feeling much more sure of himself as well as Dean. “I would take you apart with my tongue, just teasing until you groaned and begged me and only then would I do it for real. Press my tongue against you, inside you, making you jerk and moan. Making sure you enjoyed it.” he emphasized the last part and then Dean did moan. It was muffled by the pillow but it made Castiel swell with pride that they were actually doing this. “Don’t hide your sounds. I want to hear them.” He murmured against Dean’s neck and this time, Dean’s moan was clear and unabashed and it made Castiel even harder.

 

Castiel’s hand trailed around Dean’s waist and rested on his belt for a minute before moving lower. He pressed his hand against Dean’s already hard cock, making him jump a little. “oh…” Dean let out as if he was surprised he was enjoying this at all as Castiel’s hand moved to the button of his cargo pants. He couldn’t completely remove them so he settled for pulling them open and letting his hand rest on Dean’s hardening bulge over his underwear.

 

“Once you were barely coherent, I would turn you over again, onto your back so you could look at me. So you could be sure it was me nudging your thighs apart and settling between them.” He enunciated his point with a roll of his hips before dragging his hand underneath Dean’s underwear. Dean hissed as Castiel’s fingers found his licking cock and tugged slowly. “So you could be sure it was my finger pushing inside you; first one, then two and then three, having you writhe with pleasure. Only with pleasure, Dean.” Castiel whispered, now starting to jerk Dean off in earnest.

 

“Keep going.” Dean breathed the words, his nails digging into Cas’s thigh. “Please, keep going.”

 

“And I would make you look. I would want you to look as I pushed and buried myself inside. Impossibly close to you, so I could feel every twitch of your body. And if you panicked, I would tell you I loved you and then kiss you and tell you again until you believed it and afterwards, I would start to move.” Dean’s breath was ragged by now, coming faster and shorter as Castiel’s pulled his orgasm out of him. “Slowly; because I know you like it slow at first. I would move like we had all the time in the world.” He placed a kiss on Dean’s nape, tasting sweat and the faint residue of persistent gasoline. “And your eyes would fall shut as I hit your prostate but I would make you open them again because you would need to be sure; you would need to be sure we were making love.” And at that Dean’s hips bucked and his body tensed and even though Castiel couldn’t see, he thought his toes curled as he came all over Castiel’s hand.

 

Castiel stroked him a couple more times before removing his hand to rest it against Dean’s stomach, grinning stupidly. Dean crooked his neck so he could kiss Castiel, teary eyed and blushed. His lips were soft and warm against Castiel’s and his teeth nibbled, making Castiel grind forward instinctively and he noticed he was still hard. Dean seemed to notice as well and rolled completely onto his back so he could wiggle out of his pants and take his shirt off. Cas followed suit, knowing Dean was very conscious of his body and not wanting to make him even more uncomfortable.

 

This was actually the first time Dean had allowed Cas to see him with no shirt on in the light of day, discounting the first time in the hospital but he was unconscious then. The array of scars and old wounds was even more prominent under the sunlight streaming in from the windows and Dean tried to cover his chest up, his confidence starting to crumble down. Cas stopped him though; leaning down to kiss at the marks he could reach without getting too far away from Dean.

 

“You’re beautiful and these don’t change that.” he rubbed his nose against Dean’s cheek, feeling the pinch of stubble.

 

Dean relaxed at that and surprised Cas by turning around again, onto his side, presenting his back to him.

 

“Dean?” Castiel inquired because he didn’t know what to do other than lick at the skin on Dean’s back.

 

Cas felt Dean take a deep breath before reaching around to guide Castiel’s cock between his tightly pressed together thighs. “I can’t do what you said, not yet but let’s try it like this, yeah?” He suggested shyly, probably remembering this was the way they used to do it back when they were in high school, before Dean asked Castiel to top for the first time, all red and flushed.

 

“Yeah, of course.” Cas nodded, nuzzling into the crook of Dean’s neck, realizing how difficult this must be for him. Not one hour ago, he wasn’t even comfortable with Cas being behind him in the first place and now he was practically offering himself up. Blindly. Completely trusting Castiel. And Castiel wasn’t about to ruin all that.

 

So he started thrusting slowly, dragging his dick over Dean’s perineum with languid strokes until he bumped against his balls and drew back again. He kept one arm under Dean’s head and his fingers wrapped around Dean’s tightly while the other stayed on the man’s hip, caressing lightly. After the first few strokes Dean eased back again and twisted his head so he could kiss Castiel’s lips.

 

Their kisses grew messier and open mouthed as Cas’s rhythm faltered when he felt his orgasm build up. Dean urged him with his lips and his thighs, which tightened around Castiel’s dick, crumbling down what remained of his resolve. Castiel came with a whimper just under Dean’s hole, holding on tightly to the man he loved.

 

Neither of them spoke for a long time, completely content to merely lay there, Castiel’s softening dick still nestled between Dean’s warm and sticky thighs.

 

Abruptly, Cas could feel Dean’s body winding up again. “Are you okay?” he asked, instantly moving his hips away from Dean so his cock could slide free.

 

Dean cleared his throat but he didn’t jump away from Castiel, which was a good sign. “Yeah, I just really need a shower.” He said tightly and Cas could tell he was making an effort not to run to the bathroom.

 

“Okay.” Cas nodded with newfound confidence as he slid out of bed and gestured for Dean to join him in the bathroom.

 

They hadn’t showered together yet, which was completely reasonable but Cas thought this was a good opportunity. Dean seemed uncertain but he followed Castiel into the bathroom and joined him under the warm spray of the shower.

 

However, as they kissed and Cas soaped him up, Dean kept becoming more and more anxious. Cas could feel it in the way he flinched or cringed, like he thought every touch was going to hurt him. “Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel asked worriedly, placing the bar of soap on one of the shower shelves.

 

Dean tried to smile but ended up biting at his lips furiously instead. “I’m sorry. Can you just leave?” he said quickly, giving up on pretending.

 

Cas tried not to let the hurt show on his face but he never was the best at hiding from Dean. “Are you alright?” because now that they had finished, Castiel couldn’t keep from thinking maybe they had moved too fast again. Maybe this would be a repeat of the other night’s. Only it hadn’t felt like they were moving too fast; it had felt right.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just need a moment.” Dean mumbled, his fists starting to close and tighten.

 

Cas had noticed the scars on Dean’s palms and now he figured they must be from this; Dean shoving his nails into his skin. Cas reached out quickly and pried Dean’s open, holding them into his own. “Tell me, Dean.” Cas’s brow furrowed and he started feeling guilty because he could see Dean was tormenting himself right now.

 

Dean let his head fall between his shoulders and took a step away from Castiel, or as away as he could in the shower stall. “I’m sorry, Cas.” he mumbled, his voice breaking. “I just want to get clean. I feel so dirty.” He whispered, hardly audible over the sound of the water hitting against the dark tiles.

 

Castiel’s stomach tightened at that because he knew part of that feeling was on him but he shoved that away. He needed to take care of Dean now; Dean needed him and Cas wouldn’t let him got through this alone. “Where?” he asked, probably surprising Dean because his eyes shot up from the floor, looking at Cas in wonder.

 

“What?”

 

“Where do you feel dirty?” Castiel clarified, moving to the metal shelves behind him so he could grab a sponge. He wetted it under the spray and purred some liquid body wash over it, coating it liberally.

 

Dean was still stunned in place when Castiel turned around but Castiel just smiled, knowing he could do very little to ease Dean’s misery but desperately wanting to try. “Where do you feel dirty, Dean?” he repeated.

 

Dean snapped out of it and bit the inside of his cheek before answering. “My… my dick.” He whispered, his hands coming around himself to hide his soft cock.

 

Cas stepped closer to him and moved Dean’s hands away before starting to gently rub at the sensitive flesh. He knew there was no way this could be comfortable for Dean and could even be bordering on painful but the man didn’t even wince as the spongy material scrubbed at him.

 

Castiel finished soaping and started rinsing but before he could move elsewhere Dean stopped him. “Again.” He said and Castiel repeated the process. “A little harder.” He hissed but pressed closer to Castiel at the same time.

 

“One more time, please.” Dean whispered, keeping his eyes away from Castiel.

 

Castiel looked down at the reddened and irritated skin and regarded thoughtfully. He hated hurting Dean and he knew this must hurt but at the same time, he recognized Dean placed a huge amount of trust in his hands right now. He trusted Castiel to help him, to do as he said and it would be thoughtless of Castiel to break that trust right now.

 

So instead of stopping, Castiel scrubbed more soap onto Dean penis, this time using far firmer strokes. Dean hands came around his neck as a sob wrecked through his body. Against his neck, Castiel felt Dean nod and stopped rubbing.

 

“Thank you.” Dean tried to step away but Cas held him close, still sensing the agitation he was carrying.

 

“Where else, Dean?” Castiel asked patiently, letting Dean take his time before replying. He could probably guess where else himself but he needed for Dean to tell him.

 

“My… my ass.” He mouthed against Castiel’s shoulder and his arms around Castiel’s neck turned firmer once Dean sensed Castiel pouring the body wash on the small of his back, letting it trickle down between his cheeks.

 

Castiel kissed his temple and started running the sponge over Dean’s cheeks. “Shh, I got you.” he said when he felt a sharp intake of breath.

 

He worked slowly, allowing Dean to get used to the sensations before moving closer to his crack. He almost stilled when he realized he was probably the first person Dean allowed to touch him there ever since he returned from Iraq.

 

Dean’s small voice snapped him out of his inner deliberations. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

 

Cas hated how ashamed Dean sounded and wondered briefly if Dean would feel better with him gone so he could do this himself. Dean was starting to cling to him now though so he had to make himself believe that wasn’t the case. He didn’t think he would ever feel completely blameless in this whole situation but he wanted to try. For Dean; Castiel wanted to try for Dean.

 

“Shh, don’t worry.” Cas replied easily. “Just lean on me.” He encouraged him and Dean did so by bending a little at his waist so Cas’s hands could have better access.

 

Cas’s stomach tightened at the bare display of trust but he decided not to let it show, in fear of disturbing it. Instead, he drizzled some more body wash between Dean’s cheeks before using his hand to pull one slightly to the side.

 

Dean whimpered and his nails begun digging into Castiel’s back but Castiel ignored the pain for now. “You’re okay.” He said softly before he started scrubbing at Dean’s crack with gentle strokes.

 

Dean’s heart was beating faster but he shifted his legs further apart, granting Castiel even better access. Castiel continued rubbing, using more body wash than he needed to, and for twice as long as he had Dean’s dick. He moved the sponge away and when Dean didn’t protest, he maneuvered them under the spray, the water flush against Dean’s back.

 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked once all the suds were washed away.

 

Dean nodded but made no move to leave Castiel’s embrace.

 

“Where else?” Castiel continued, hoping he was reading the situation right.

 

Dean tensed up for a long moment, more so than any of the previous times. “I… I can do it myself.” He started. “You can… go.” He pulled away then, his eyelashes spiked and his eyes red.

 

“If you want me to go, I’ll go—but only if you want me to.” Castiel clarified. “I won’t go if you think you’re doing me a favor because this makes me uncomfortable.”

 

“I don’t want you to go. But… you shouldn’t have to see this.”

 

“See what?”

 

“My… how filthy I am.” Dean confessed, cringing back into himself.

 

Cas had him wrapped in his arms the instant he saw Dean’s reaction because Dean really shouldn’t have to go through this alone. “Where else?” he repeated, knowing it would hardly make a difference if he tried to tell Dean that he wasn’t actually filthy.

 

When Dean’s reply came, Castiel had to struggle to hear it over the noise of the shower. “Inside.” He said, his whole body going cold, like he was afraid of Castiel’s reaction.

 

Cas was once again glad Dean’s face was hidden in his neck because he didn’t want him to see the anger or the frustration in his eyes. Anger, because right about now, he wanted to rip the men who did this to Dean apart. And it surprised him because, yes, he always felt a certain amount of disgust whenever he thought about them but it wasn’t never this strong. No, this kind of anger made his blood boil. They had made Dean disgusted of his own body, of his pleasure and what was their punishment? Castiel thought death would be too merciful for them. 

 

“But, you can go Cas.” Dean said quickly and Castiel realized he was so far away he probably hadn’t replied and now Dean was freaking out. He was freaking out thinking that Castiel thought he was dirty.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He muttered, tightening his arms around Dean once before reaching out for the body wash again. He poured a generous amount in his hand and dipped his fingers in it. At first he gently rubbed around Dean’s rim, pressing softly before retreating and doing it over again.

 

Once Dean stopped flinching and started pressing closer to Castiel’s body every time his finger’s swiped over his whole, Castiel tried pressing one inside. He had a macabre thought of a time where they thrived in shower sex, having figured out the best ways to fuck despite the water or the showerhead and the wet tiles. Under different circumstances Castiel would have grown hard at those memories or what he was doing right now but this time, it felt clinical. The press of his soaped index finger inside of Dean was nothing but completely detached. Simply there with the purpose to clean and soothe, not bring pleasure and arousal. And Dean trusted him to do that. He trusted Castiel to touch him there and know what it was about.

 

Castiel knew it couldn’t have been easy for Dean, relaxing around the intrusion of a place he had spent months having assaulted. Letting Castiel touch a place that for months had been used to bring pain and agony to him. And Castiel tried to make this as painless as he could. He didn’t linger and he didn’t press too far, only far enough that he could get Dean to realize he was rid of the filth.

 

He removed his finger and reapplied the soap, not wanting to take any chances with causing Dean unnecessary and further discomfort. He started twisting his finger so he could smear the soap around when he heard a whimper coming from Dean.

“No, no, no, please don’t.” Dean begged him, ready to jump away from him but making a conscious effort to stay still.

 

“Shh, I’m not trying to find your prostate.” Castiel soothed him with a hand over his back. “I’m only spreading the soap, okay?” he said softly but he stopped moving his finger.

 

“Oh, okay.” Dean relaxed again, growing heavier into Castiel’s arms.

 

Castiel didn’t prolong this any further and after a couple of more twists, removed his fingers and rinsed off all of the suds. He kissed Dean’s temple again and gently unwrapped the man’s arms from around his neck so he could step out and grab them some towels.

 

After they both dried off and Castiel gave Dean some clothes to sleep in, they laid in bed, in the same position as they had before, with Castiel’s front to Dean’s back and his arm on the man’s waist.

 

Castiel had gotten a full night’s sleep the night before and he was fully awake now so he was sure he couldn’t back to sleep but he was content to lay here as Dean slept.

 

“Why did you do that?” Dean suddenly asked, carefully trying to keep emotion out of his voice.

 

Castiel sighed, touching his nose to Dean’s nape. “What we do here, always, we do it together. You shouldn’t have to go through that alone.” He explained. “Did I… did I overstep, I mean, it was a lot and I know you would rather do it alone but you don’t have to.” He couldn’t keep some of his insecurities from showing. He didn’t think he was wrong but when Dean didn’t say anything he begun to doubt himself. “If it made you feel too uncomfortable you can just tell me to leave next time. I swear Dean, it wasn’t my intention.” He continued, surprised at how desperate he sounded.

 

“No, no.” Dean shook his head, his fingers threading themselves with Castiel’s. “I think it was better with you there.” He said hesitantly. “I just… I don’t want you to see me like that. This is my burden to bear Castiel. You shouldn’t let it take you down with it as well.”

 

“It isn’t though. I told you, we do this together and I help you through that. If helping you means having a shower with you or holding you when you’re having a panic attack, then I’m completely okay with that. Because that means there is actually something that I can do. It kills me, Dean, when I see you tormenting yourself and I can’t pull you out of it. Please let me help you through this.”

 

Dean sniffled but when he spoke again he sounded surer. “Yeah, okay.” He nodded, pressing closer to Castiel. “Thank you. It really was better with you in there.” He sounded surprised, like he himself wasn’t expecting that.

 

Castiel kissed his nape, not bothering to hide the smile spreading on his lips. “That’s good. I will always try to make it better.”

 

“Sometimes you won’t be able to.” Dean pointed with a strange note of sobriety.

 

Castiel had to admit that but the knowledge didn’t do anything to falter his unexpectedly satisfied mood. “I know but I can still try, Dean and I will always try because I love you and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

 

With Castiel’s admission Dean seemed to relax further into their embrace, any lingering doubts waning. “I love you to.” He whispered tiredly before closing his eyes with a faint smile on his lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really hoped you liked this chapter and make sure to leave your comments, if you have any :)


	17. No Rest For The Wicked

Dean didn’t particularly entertain the idea of falling asleep right now, knowing that with sleep would came a pretty nasty nightmare. And he didn’t like having nasty nightmares when Cas was with him because he tended to lose himself in them. It wasn’t just the chocking part—which had only happened once, but Dean would still always hate himself for it. It was also the way he distanced himself from Cas afterwards, never quite sure if Cas touching him again would feel good or make him dirty. And he hated thinking Cas touching him could be anything other than good.

 

Half of him was always on guard for that dirtiness slimily ensuing itself between them and his body tensed at the thought.

 

Cas must have sensed it because his hands, although still around Dean, loosened, as if giving him room to breathe. “Would you prefer I go?” he asked honestly, ready to get out of bed and leave Dean alone if he said ‘yes’.

 

“No. I just… wake me up if you think it’s bad?” Dean hoped Cas would be able to do so and not be otherwise reoccupied with something like Dean’s hands around his neck.

 

“Okay, Dean.” He nuzzled his nose into Dean’s neck. “You can sleep now.” Cas prompted him and oddly enough, to Dean, it felt like permission and he let his eyelids drift shut.

 

*****

 

Dean became aware of the bed shifting beneath him and the covers being pulled away, allowing a cold breeze to invade his sleepy warmth. He was pretty sure he whined at the breaching of his cocoon because he heard a distinct chuckle coming from beside him just before a kiss was placed on his forehead.

 

The bed shifted further and Dean found himself pressed against a very solid and very, very cold body and groaned in response. He didn’t want to wake up yet, he didn’t even want to open his eyes and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt rested and safe enough to allow for that hint of indulgence.

 

“Pff, you’re cold.” He mumbled, mostly against his pillow, too unwilling to move his mouth away from it so he could speak properly.

 

“Sorry.” Castiel chuckled again, not sounding at all apologetic.

 

And he didn’t sound apologetic when he decided to press his cold foot against Dean’s very warm and content calf, making Dean actually yelp and his eyes snap wide open. “Dude!” he was going for upset or at least annoyed but he could barely bring himself to care as he pressed further into Castiel’s chest.

 

“Oh, sorry.” Cas replied evilly. “Was that your leg?”

 

“Yeah, yeah… just let me sleep. It’s too early.” Dean complained but he felt like he had had plenty hours of sleep already… which couldn’t be possible because he didn’t remember having a nightmare.

 

“I would beg to differ, my sleeping beauty. You’ve slept for almost seven hours and if you don’t wake up now you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.” Cas reasoned, as if that justified his icicle toes digging into Dean’s soles.

 

“Are you serious?” Dean couldn’t keep his surprise from showing.

 

When Cas spoke, Dean could hear his smile. “Yeah, I actually had to check on you a couple of times. I had never seen you sleep like that.”

 

Yeah, because after Iraq Dean didn’t sleep like that. He slept as little and infrequently as possible, knowing sleep was when he was at his most vulnerable. But this he did sleep. He slept like he was normal and like he didn’t have nightmares plaguing his nights.

 

Dean smiled to himself and turned around in Castiel’s arms so they were facing each other, their legs tangled under the covers. “Good morning.” he said simply before leaning in to place a kiss on Cas’s lips.

 

“Good morning.” Cas replied once they broke apart, clearly taken aback but pleased as well. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Dean had a brief moment of trying to deduce how bad his morning breath could be because he really wanted to kiss Castiel for real.

 

In the end, Dean merely shrugged since he couldn’t ever remember Cas complaining about his breath and moved his lips on Castiel’s, taking the other man by surprise for a couple of seconds. Dean usually wasn’t this straightforward but he thought he should reevaluate his stance as he bit Cas’s bottom lip, pulling away slightly and making him moan.

 

“Sleep really makes you horny, huh?” Castiel joked, his words spoken practically in Dean’s mouth.

 

“You have no idea.” And clearly that was their cue because their kisses weren’t teasing or nibbling but started to turn desperate; openmouthed and hot, morning breath be damned even thought Dean could taste the residue of toothpaste and coffee on Cas’s tongue.

 

Dean wrapped his arm, which wasn’t being squashed underneath him, around Castiel and tried to pull him closer, needing to feel his body against his. He moved his leg between Cas’s and pressed forward, surprised to see Castiel was already hard but he wasn’t pushing Dean. Which, evidently, combined with just waking up, was enough to make Dean hard as well, his hips grinding up into Cas’s.

 

Cas moved away, only to start kissing at Dean’s neck, and Dean craned it to the side, granting Cas better access as he scraped his teeth over Dean’s skin, leaving behind a faint tingling sensation, only made more intense by the drag of Cas’s stubble. His tongue started laving at Dean’s collarbone, lips locking onto skin with the obvious intent of bruising and Dean realized this wasn’t like their previous attempts. This wasn’t gentle or careful, both of them walking on eggshells; this was _them_. This was what they were like before everything and Dean… Dean thrived with that knowledge. This was still them; it could still be them.

 

Dean’s hands moved to cup Castiel’s face, gently pushing him away from his chest so he could straddle Cas’s lap and the friction there was so much better. Even through layers of clothing Dean could feel Cas cock leaking and his own grew harder, now decisively more eager.

 

“Dean what—” Dean slammed his mouth on Cas’s, effectively shutting him up and pulling both of them into a sitting position. He ran his fingers down the expanse of Castiel’s back, reaching the hem of his t-shirt and unceremoniously dragging it over Cas’s head. Their eyes met in a silent question, Cas’s pupils already blown, the black overtaking the blue and Dean nodded.

 

Cas repeated the movement with Dean’s borrowed t-shirt, discarding it onto the floor and maybe Dean would have a moment of feeling self-conscious about his scars but Cas’s mouth was instantly right _there_ , sucking and biting, as if he could stamp over those marks with some of his own. His tongue found a raised patch of scar tissue—Dean thought it was from a burn maybe?—and his teeth dragged over the sensitive skin, making Dean shudder because no one had touched him like this in years.

 

He pressed down with his hips and after a couple of efforts he managed to get their cocks to come together and Cas’s breath hitched against Dean’s nipple. Dean looked down, realizing there was now a wet stain on the boxers Castiel had given him and Cas must have noticed him looking at it and saw it as well, surprising Dean with a possessive growl like he was saying: ‘that is for me’.

 

And of course it was for him because Cas’s hands moved around him and grabbed at his ass, a gesture that would have sent his spiraling out of control with panic only yesterday but right now only felt natural. Cas’s hands guided Dean’s hips into a rolling movement and their lips met, uncoordinated with their tongues coming together carelessly, more sharing breath rather than kissing.

 

Pretty soon the fabric of Dean’s underwear became far too rough, already starting to chafe against his erection and judging by Cas’s whimper at the next grind of their hips, he probably agreed with him.

 

He momentarily rolled off Castiel so they could both pull their boxers down and climbed back into his lap, their skin coming in full contact for the firs time with nothing between them and Dean had to burry his head in Castiel’s neck to stifle his whimper because he was already far too close.

 

Both their chests were slick with sweat and Dean’s fingers slipped as he tried to grab and hold on to Castiel’s back and his thighs kept sliding over Castiel’s hips, unable to get the right angle and it was _infuriating_. Dean couldn’t stop wiggling and he was pretty sure there were some tears mixed with the sweat on his face and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get _there_.

 

“Shh, just let me.” Cas whispered only seconds before Dean’s breath stopped as he felt fingers wrapping themselves around both their cocks.

 

The smell inside the room was heavy with their arousals and the amount of precome between them just enough to make Cas’s stokes pleasurable and reduce Dean to a whimpering mess with his nails digging into Cas’s back. “Oh, that’s… that’s just…” He felt his body tense and Cas tightened his fist and upped the speed of his strokes, Dean’s mouth falling open against his shoulder and his teeth sank down into the sweaty skin instinctively as he came with a sob, hot and messy, coating both their stomachs and Castiel’s fingers.

 

Castiel kept moving his fist through the aftershocks of Dean’s orgasm, his strokes far slower and more relaxed and Dean couldn’t help but run his tongue over the bite he had left, tasting the faded residue of copper and gasping as he realized he had actually broken skin.

 

He moved his head so he could look at Castiel who smiled in response. “Oh, fuck! I’m sorry, I really—” he tried to apologize but it was Cas’s turn to shut him up with his mouth and Dean was suddenly distinctly aware of the fact that Castiel hadn’t came.

 

He broke away with a mischievous smile and put his hand on Cas’s chest so he could make him lie back on the bed. Cas regarded him thoughtfully for a minute but Dean just kept smiling and something in his expression must have convinced Castiel because he followed his ministrations and laid on his back.

 

Dean leaned down, starting to trail kisses down Castiel’s chest, making sure to suck and bite at both his nipples, tasting sweat and his own cum as he neared Cas’s stomach.

 

The few times he had jerked off alone, after he had gotten back from Iraq, he realized one of the worst triggers was tasting his own cum. In retrospect, he thought he probably shouldn’t have tried it after what they’d done to him. He refused to think about that now though, wanting to give Castiel something equally as good he had given Dean and so he stirred clear of the white drops on his stomach.

 

Instead, he wiggled down Cas’s body so he was laying on his stomach between the ‘V’ of Cas’s open legs and wrapped the finger of his one arm around his erection while the other one, he kept firmly across Cas’s hipbones. He licked at the swollen head experimentally because it had been a really long time and the last encounter he’d had with something like this in his mouth hadn’t gone very well.

 

Cas moaned appreciatively, his dingers twisting into the sheets in an effort to keep from reaching for Dean, probably seeing the internal struggle Dean was having with himself right now.

 

Dean tentatively wrapped his lips around the head of Cas’s erection, sucking gently and had a small fit of panic when he felt more precome flooding his mouth, expecting to gag but instead, his mouth watered. Dean shrugged inwardly and ran his tongue over the underside, taking a moment to press the tip into Cas’s slit, if only to hear his whimper, before taking him as far into his mouth as he could. Which, okay it wasn’t too far since he was very much out of practice and his biggest struggle was keeping his teeth tucked away from the sensitive skin but Cas seemed to enjoy it nonetheless, his hands twisting further into the sheets.

 

Dean looked up, Cas’s cock still buried in his mouth and found Castiel looking down at him, his bottom lip being bitten furiously, his skin flushed all the way to his chest and barely keeping it together. Dean took his hand away from Cas’s erection and grabbed Castiel’s, pulling it away from the sheet and placing it onto his head. The funny things was, he didn’t even feel the need to tell Castiel not to push because he already knew Cas wouldn’t. No, Cas merely let his head fall back and twisted his fingers roughly into Dean’s hair, never applying pressure even when Dean knew he must have wanted to.

 

Dean thought he had teased Castiel enough and he hallowed his cheeks, bobbing his head up and down, going as far as he could and jerking what he couldn’t touch with his hand until he felt Castiel starting to tremble beneath him.

 

“Oh, god. Yeah, you’re… Dean…” Cas whimpered his hands grabbing at Dean’s hair, looking for purchase.

 

Dean redoubled his efforts, sucking even harder, pressing his tongue over the raised vein on the underside of Cas’s cock and actually taking the hand that kept Cas’s hips in place away and moving it to his balls. At the first gentle tug of his sack Cas begun to shake, his fingers trying to pull Dean’s head away from his dick.

 

“Dean, oh… fuck!” Castiel mumbled brokenly, his hips bucking up but not too far into Dean’s mouth before he came inside of it. Dean tried to swallow, remembering how turned on Cas had been the first time he’d done that but he gagged instead, pulling off Castiel completely and coughing so hard into his elbow his eyes begun to water.

 

Oh, he just _knew_ he was ten shades of bright red with embarrassment and he felt a little disappointed since he thought it had gone pretty well right up until the moment he choked but he didn’t have time to think on it too hardly. No, because Castiel was right with him, handing him a tissue with a ridiculously satisfied and fucked out smile on his face.

 

Once Dean’s coughing fit was over, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he had tried to swipe at his tongue with the tissue so he could get rid of the taste of cum in his mouth, Cas kissed him, chastely this time, his tongue outlining Dean’s lips. Dean tried to kiss him back but he couldn’t stop thinking about the lingering tang, which was starting to turn acidy in his mouth and he pulled away.

 

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute.” He got off the bed but smiled genuinely at Castiel, determined not to let this ruin his afterglow. He could see Castiel wanted to come with him but this wasn’t really as dramatic as he thought so Dean simply shook his head and headed into the bathroom.

 

Once he closed the door behind him, he found some mouthwash and cleaned out his mouth three times, until he was confident he could only taste peppermint anymore. Then he washed his hands and had another run at the mouthwash just to be safe because his compulsion would always be there. It was just tuned down at the moment. He chuckled to himself and looked up at the mirror, his eyes immediately falling onto the two red marks on his chest; one on top of a patch scar tissue and the other on his neck. Dean gingerly brushed his fingers over them and smiled, unable to keep from feeling proud with himself. His eyes drifted to the shower and he briefly entertained the idea of one but he decided he had been in here long enough and Cas would be getting worried so he walked back into the bedroom.

 

Castiel was leaning against the headboard, still naked, undoubtedly trying to look as if he hadn’t been tormenting himself with thinking about whether or not he should have gone into the bathroom. Dean walked over to the bed and kissed him before climbing over his body so he could get into what they were now referring to as ‘his’ side of the bed.

 

“Mouthwash?” Castiel asked lightly, his eyebrows raised once Dean was tucked against his side, his head tucked under Cas’s chin and Cas’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.

 

“I’ll tell you some other time.” Dean replied, feeling far more confident than he had in a long time. It was only a little perverted that he wanted to call his psychiatrist right now and tell him all about it, he concluded. “I’ll say that was pretty awesome.”

 

Cas chuckled, interlacing their fingers on his stomach. “Yes, it was. How did you? I can’t even… just how?”

 

“You mean how I went from a blushing and twitching virgin to _that_?” Dean joked, his toes bumping against Castiel’s. “I just figured… I had a good night; I wanted to have a good morning to go with it. But Cas,” Dean sighed because this wasn’t pleasant and he didn’t want to ruin both their moods but at the same time, he really needed to come clean with this. “It won’t always be like that. This time, sure but I can’t promise you—”

 

“And you don’t have to.” Cas stopped him. “I love you and you are unbelievably brave and I want to be there for you at every step of the way and I don’t need you to promise me anything.” Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw and leaned forward, only so he could press his lips against Dean’s for a brief moment before pulling away again.

 

Dean had to take a moment because his newfound self—even temporary—was apparently very emotional and he could feel his eyes pinch, just begging him to let them shed some tears. But Dean had made up his mind: this was happy time; tears could come later, when it was sad time.

 

“My lease is up.” He said suddenly, before he could stop himself.

 

Castiel arched an eyebrow at him, evidently enjoying the way Dean blushed after he’d blurted that out. “Is that you suggesting we moves in together?” Cas asked, a little incredulous.

 

“Fuck you!” Dean slapped his shoulder with no real force. “Yes it is.” He tried again. “Take it or leave it.”

 

“Oh, I am so taking it.” Castiel nodded and smiled excitedly. “In fact—” his cell phone started vibrating against the nightstand, effectively interrupting him and eliciting an annoyed huff from Cas.

 

Once Castiel glanced at the caller though his face instantly turned serious and he swiped his finger over the welcome screen before bringing it to his ear. “This is Dr. Novak.” There was a muffled voice from the other end of the line. “I’ll be right there.” He gave Dean an apologetic smiled and got off the bed, starting to shift through his closet for some clothes. “Have you coordinated with—” he nodded even though the caller couldn’t see him. “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

 

Castiel put his phone back on the nightstand and started getting dressed in his scrubs. “I’m so sorry, I had called and taken the day off while you were sleeping but this a mass casualty trauma.” Cas turned to Dean, a worried frown on his face.

 

“What happened?”

 

Castiel ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Car crash on the freeway? I don’t know much—nobody does right now. I’m really sorry but it’s all hands on deck.”

 

“Hey, don’t worry about me. Just go save some lives—and be careful.” Dean felt the need to point that out before he got off the bed as well so he could kiss Castiel goodbye. He decided he should take a moment later to think on how domesticated this whole thing was.

 

“Dean please, I’m not the one carrying an assault riffle and barging into banks that are being robbed.” Cas countered, his hand coming around Dean to deliver a soft slap on his ass.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Love you.” Castiel shouted, already out of the bedroom.

 

A few seconds later, Dean heard the loud bang of the door closing. “Love you, too.” He said to the empty room.

 

*****

 

Dean walked into the lobby, taking in the way heals clapped against the marble floor all around him. He went straight for the elevators, ignoring how out of place he seemed, dressed in a pair of worn out jeans and his leather jacket while everyone else was in dark suits and shiny shoes. He sometimes wondered how his klutzy bitch of a brother could function in this environment and if he didn’t know better, Dean would say Sammy was gonna get eaten by the sharks. His brother was ruthless in this place though and Dean should have probably called ahead to let him know but Cas had just left and he was excited—more so than he been in a long time—and couldn’t stay still.

 

And that was how he found himself jabbing repeatedly at the elevator button with a sharklady beside him and two sharkmen behind him. When the doors finally swung open with a ding, a horde of sharks rushed out, most of them frantically talking to hands-free cell phone set. Once the coast was clear, Dean walked inside the shaft and pressed the floor button he wanted before settling for one of the most uncomfortable elevator rides of his life.

 

His brother’s firm owned the entire building but Sammy worked on the fifteenth floor. Sammy had once explained to him how the level you worked on pretty much determined your salary and your status quo but Dean had been too busy trying to keep his eyes open to listen to his brother talk about his boring ass job.

 

The elevator came to a halt and he quickly stepped off, trying to orientate himself through another lobby. He walked up to the floor receptionist and asked her to call his brother who, thankfully wasn’t in a meeting and would be down shortly. Dean smiled at her and two minutes later his brother was in front of him, pale as a ghost.

 

“What’s wrong?” Sammy asked, panicking, his hands itching to pester at Dean’s body to make sure he was fine.

 

Dean chuckled because his brother’s response to his coming to visit him at work had been instant panic. Then again, the past couple of years he hadn’t been the best person to around so he couldn’t blame Sammy for deciding to err in the side of caution.

 

“Everything is fine, I just came to see if you wanted to grab some lunch.” Dean said quickly, jerking his head to the elevators.

 

“Oh.” Sammy took a step back in surprise, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes ogled at Dean. At that moment, Dean wondered what the hell kind of a brother he’d been. “Are you sure there is nothing wrong?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. There was no way he had been _this_ bad. “Dude! Move your ass.”

 

“Alright, aright fine. Just give me a sec to get my coat. Don’t go anywhere.” Dean couldn’t tell if the _don’t go anywhere_ was supposed to be sarcastic but by the way his brother kept his eyes on him while walking backwards to his office, he supposed it was for real. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes again at that and started pacing in the lobby as he waited for Sammy to get back.

 

A couple of minutes later, Sammy was back. “Alright, I’m ready.” He popped his head in the lobby, long black coat already on.

 

“Dude, why do you dress like that?” Dean couldn’t resist asking once they were in the elevator. There were a couple of other people in the shaft with them and Dean thought his voice might have been louder than he’d originally indented because one of them turned to look at Dean up and down and snorted in response.

 

“Dean!” Sammy hissed, his serious adult frown on and everything. Which of course just made the whole situation weirder but Dean decided to roll with it because as much as he’d like to mess with Sammy, he knew he shouldn’t embarrass him in front of his coworkers.

 

The elevator stopped at the main lobby and they both got off, heading for the building exit. “There’s a fast food joint down the block.” Sam suggested and Dean nodded in agreement.

 

They didn’t say anything else as they walked to said joint but Dean could tell Sammy was just barely keeping quiet. He imagined his brother must be dying with questions.

 

They got to the fast food place and placed their orders with the cashier before settling on a table in front of the window.

 

“Oh, just spit it out.” Dean said once he couldn’t bear the staring anymore; it was just unnerving.

 

“It’s just…” Sammy frowned, biting his lip as he tried to come up with the right words. “You don’t _do_ this.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“You know, just pass by, say let’s go to lunch. It’s… you haven’t done it in a while.” Sammy explained.

 

“What are you talking about? We hang out.” Dean countered because he and Sam got together at least three times a week, whenever they both had time.

 

“Yeah, but only after I pester you about it and you rarely do it on your own accord.” Sam shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. “But anyway, what brought this on?”

 

Sammy looked happy enough for the change of pace but Dean honestly couldn’t help thinking if Sam was right. Had he been absent? He had tried so hard to be there, to be the person he used to, all cocky attitude and sassy remarks but it was too exhausting. Some days, just going to work and socializing had felt like too much.

 

“I’m really sorry, Sammy.” Dean said quietly.

 

“Hey, I said it’s fine and you’re feeling good now so let it go.” His brother argued, smiling. “And please tell me why you’re looking so happy.”

 

“Cas and I had sex.” He confessed quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up. Part of him thought he’d be disgusted once he thought about it or mentioned it but telling Sammy only served to make him giddier. _Huh, maybe cum had healing powers._ Aaaaaand now he was laughing with something that he thought about. And Sammy was staring like there was something wrong with him. “I just… I remembered something—don’t mind me.” Dean mumbled quickly, still unable to keep his excitement in check. And he wasn’t sure he didn’t like it this way.

 

Sam shook his head, seeming to come back to himself. “Whoa then, Cas must be _really_ good in bed.” He snickered, nodding his head for emphasis.

 

“I mean, we had sex and it was good, you know?” Dean continued and at this point, he didn’t know why he was still talking. Because this was getting dangerously close to talking about why the sex hadn’t been good before. Dean was happy, yes and he was excited but he still was far from ready to have this conversation with his brother. He didn’t know if he’d ever be for that matter.

 

Sammy’s expression softened though and his smile was genuine this time. “I’m really happy for you Dean. It was along time coming and you deserve to have that again.”

 

Something in Sammy’s tone told Dean his brother knew more than he let on and he had a moment of panic as he considered Sammy might actually know what had happened to Dean back in Iraq. Sammy already knew about the torture and captivity but no specifics and Dean would prefer to keep it that way.

 

His internal freak out session was interrupted though when a waitress brought them their treys and snapped him out of his head.

 

“Thanks.” Dean told Sam once the waitress had left. He kept his eyes on his cheeseburger, not wanting his brother to see him blush.

 

Thankfully, Sammy paid them both some mercy and gave no reply, simply acknowledged Dean with a kick on his shin under the table.

 

“How’s baby momma?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger, both because he wanted to know and he needed a change of subject. Healing cum had its limits after all.

 

“Cranky.” Sammy grumbled and for him to grumble when talking about Jess, Dean supposed she was really fucking cranky. “But… I don’t know, really pretty as well.”

 

“Oh, yes, the glow.” Dean sighed dramatically, eliciting a full eye-roll from Sammy.

 

“Fuck you.” His brother threw a crumbled napkin at him, which Dean dug to avoid.

 

“Hey, just stating the facts, man. Seriously though, how much longer? I can’t wait to meet your evil spawn.”

 

“Oh shit. You’re gonna spoil her so bad, aren’t you? I’m gonna have be bad cop, aren’t I? My only child is gonna hate me.” Sam mumbled, feigning panic but he was right; Dean was so gonna spoil the evil spawn.

 

“Heh, I’m gonna be the fun uncle.” Dean smirked, already having decided so. “I shall take it upon myself to teach your spawn of the wonders of good music.”

 

Sammy actually choked on his soda, causing some of it to spurt out from his nose. “You’re just making it worse. My daughter is gonna be a metalhead. I should just give up on any dreams of law or med school, huh?”

 

Dean chuckled, taking a break from their exchange so he could shove some of his burger into his mouth.

 

“You know I was thinking—” Sammy started but stopped short from his phone vibrating next to his trey.  “Just a sec—oh, it’s actually Cas.” He told Dean before placing the phone next to his ear.

 

“Hey Cas. What’s up?” Sam greeted cheerfully just before his eyebrows drew together. “What?” his brother froze on the spot, his eyes wide open in shock.

 

Dean could hear the voice at the other end of the line getting louder and he realized his brother was probably struck speechless so he reached out and grabbed the phone without any kind of reaction from Sam.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Dean thank god!” Cas was on the other end of the line, his voice panicked and frenzied. “Is Sam okay?”

 

“He looks awe-struck? Is everything okay, Cas?”

 

Sam started getting up from their table and Dean didn’t hesitate for a minute before following suit. “Sammy? Where are you going? Cas, what the hell is going on?” Dean demanded because his brother had just turned around and started to walk to the exit, without another word.

 

Cas sighed and when he spoke again he sounded completely resigned; tired, like talking was too much for him. “Just bring him to the hospital and don’t let him out of your sight.” He said before hanging up.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna apologize for the cliffhanger but... well, not really ;)
> 
> hope you enjoyed it and make sure to comment :))))))))


	18. In My Time Of Dying

When Castiel got to the hospital, it was a mess. The ER was frantic and judging by the amount of personnel hurrying from bed to bed and from trauma room to trauma room, every doctor and nurse on staff was on call. Which made a lot of sense since they were the hospital closest to scene and so they were officially overflowing with trauma.

 

He hastily made his way through the madness of the ER until he bumped into Meg, his head nurse. Meg sighed in obvious relief that Cas was finally here and wasted no time bringing him up to speed. “Thank god! Things are starting to get—”

 

“Out of control?” Castiel finished for her, walking purposefully to the supply room so he could grab a gown and some gloves. Meg followed swiftly behind him, already holding out three charts for him. “I mean, I take _one_ day off.” He grumbled as he quickly tied the laces behind his back and snapped on a pair of plastic gloves.

 

“Yeah, well, you can whine later. Now, you need to work.” Meg smirked, seemingly unfazed by the whole situation. Cas would never admit to it but he secretly thought it was her coldness that made her so efficient and suiting for her job.

 

Castiel nodded and made a conscious effort to diminish every other thought running through his mind because he had patients now. Patients who needed his help and this, right here, was the reason he became a doctor in the first place.

 

“Have you—”

 

“Stocked the trauma rooms and the ORs, cleared all non-emergent surgeries from the schedule, paged every trauma surgeon and nurse on call? Yes.” She handed him the charts and turned around to head back to the ER.

 

“I need to you to page every Cardiothoracic and Plastic surgeon on call as well. There are going to be burn victims and how can we be swamped? It was a car crash.” Castiel reasoned because they were looking at at more then four dozen cases and that was only in this hospital.

 

Meg stopped right outside the ER and shot Cas a stern look. “Two tourist buses got dragged in the crash.” She opened the doors to the Emergency Room and Castiel walked into the familiar blurring, hot panic and metallic taste of blood and burnt flesh.

 

*****

 

Castiel pulled off his bloodstained surgical gloves and gown, not allowing himself even a minute of reprieve before rushing back down to the ER. The last surgery had taken him three hours, which meant most of the panic and frenzy had died down by the time he got back. That wasn’t to say there weren’t still people in shock, crying as they tried to grasp how they went from driving down the street to having burnt skin pulled away from their bodies by plastic surgeons.

 

“What else?” he walked up to the nurses’ station and handed Meg the chart of the patient he had just finished operating on. It had been his third surgery for the day and even though all of them had been short and fairly eventless, they just seemed to keep coming, leaving him with no room to take a breath between patients.

 

Meg smiled, relieved and tired, her hair tied into a neat bun on top of her head. “No new incoming trauma.” She replied and Castiel felt his knees buckle at the sound of the news.

 

“That’s good.” He nodded and even though he wasn’t normally superstitious, he just knew he shouldn’t have said that because now there was incoming trauma.

 

He heard the familiar siren of the ambulance pulling in front of the door and instinctively straightened up but two other trauma surgeons beat him to it. They rushed outside and a few minutes later came back, dragging a trauma gurney between them. And looking relaxed. Which should not be happening. And they weren’t rushing at all as they pushed the gurney through the hospital beds.

 

One of them must have noticed Castiel glaring and frowned at him. “DOA.” he explained but Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

 

Tied to the gurney was a woman—a pregnant woman and it shouldn’t feel strange to Castiel because there are dozen pregnant women out there but this one just… she irked him. “Wait up.”

 

The two surgeons stopped the gurney and Cas walked over so he could take a closer look. The woman’s face was covered in blood and Cas thought her hair might have been blonde but there as too much blood and ash to be sure and even though the right side of her face was severely burnt, she couldn’t help but feel familiar.

 

“Dr. Novak?” one of the surgeons put a hand on his shoulder. Cas realized he had been staring at her for too long and there was protocol that needed to be followed with DOA patients.

 

“Sorry.” Castiel shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Is there an ID?”

 

The surgeon grabbed the clipboard that rested on the woman’s knees, on top of a gray blanket, and started reading through the pages. “Jessica Moore?”

 

Castiel felt the bottom go out of his stomach.

 

He snatched the clipboard from the young surgeon and tried to check the name for himself, in the hope the other doctor had been wrong. Of course he hadn’t. The clipboard read ‘Jessica Moore”.

 

And how could this have happened?

 

Castiel’s mouth went dry and his fists clenched at his sides, the clipboard dropping to the floor and the sound far louder than it should. He gritted his teeth and tried, desperately, to wrap his had around this because this just wasn’t possible.

 

How the hell would he explain this to Sam? To Dean? How could he even face Dean after this?

 

And he just found out that Sam’s fiancée is dead and all he can think about it Dean? What the hell was wrong with him?

 

“Dr. Novak?” Meg was gently shaking his shoulder and when he came to, he saw he had attracted the attention of practically everyone in the ER who wasn’t too preoccupied with shock and crispy flesh.

 

“I…I know her.” He said simply. “I need to call her fiancé.”

 

“Do you want me to do it?” Meg offered, softly turning him away from the body so the surgeons could roll her down to the morgue.

 

Her offer was tempting and Cas would take just about anything over doing this but some twisted sense of duty inside him told he had to do it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Sam heard it from someone he knew and not from a stranger. Then again, Cas was about to tell him that the woman he loved and who carried his baby was dead so he supposed it didn’t matter whom it came from.

 

“No, I can… I can do it.” He said meekly, stepping away from Meg and heading to the locker room.

 

He closed the door behind him and took out his cellphone. His fingers froze as he went through his contacts and for a minute he considered stalling this. Sam was happy now after all and why should Castiel ruin it? But it wasn’t up to him to make that decision and putting himself in Sam’s position, he thought he’d want to know as soon as possible.

 

So he tapped the contact with his thumb and brought the phone to his ear. Castiel held his breath until Sam picked up, on the third ring.

 

“Hey Cas. What’s up?” he greeted him chirpily and Castiel loathed to do this but Sam deserved the truth. Right?

 

“Sam…” he made a conscious effort to keep his voice from cracking. “I’m so sorry. Jessica was involved in the car crash on the freeway.” Cas bit the bullet, not wanting to prolong this. It would be hurtful no matter how he did it.

 

“What?” Sam asked, shocked and Castiel couldn’t really blame him. He had just shaken up his entire world after all.

 

“I’m so sorry but you need to come here right now.” He kept his voice level but just the fact that he wasn’t telling him what kind of injuries Jessica had sustained spoke volumes. It wouldn’t take much for Sam to guess what had happened.

 

There was no response on the other end of the line but Castiel could still hear Sam’s heavy breathing. “Sam?” he tried again. “Sam, did you hear me?” Castiel pushed away from the door and started pacing between the lockers but there was still no answer from Sam. “Sam, what—”

 

“Hello?” A voice asked after some shuffling and it was actually Dean’s voice, Castiel realized in relief.

 

“Dean, thank god!” he didn’t even try to hide his panic from Dean. “Is Sam okay?”

 

“Uhm…he looks awe-struck? Is everything okay, Cas?” Dean chuckled nervously. “Sammy? Where are you going? Cas, what the hell is going on?” Dean demanded, obviously having had enough of dancing around the subject.

 

Castiel sighed, feeling the exhaustion he had been trying to stave off for so long finally set in. “Just bring him to the hospital and don’t let him out of your sight.” He said coldly before hanging up the phone.

 

He put the phone back in his pocket and sat on the bench in between the two rows of metal lockers. He spent the next thirty minutes it took for Dean and Sam to get here trying to figure out what he was going to say.

 

 

*****

 

Castiel met Dean and Sam at the nurses’ station in the ER. He watched them come in, Sam distracted and expressionless and Dean calm and composed, and briefly considered hiding behind the counter or inside on of the trauma rooms. But he was no coward. And he didn’t want to drag this on anymore.

 

“Cas. You need to tell us now. Seriously.” Dean demanded, his teeth gritting together inside of his clenched jaw.

 

Cas ignored him and turned to Sam instead. He was afraid if he looked at Dean he might cower. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” Sam’s eyes nailed his and up to that point, Cas might have thought Sam wasn’t registering what was happening—perhaps from shock—but he could tell now. Sam’s eyes looked feral; like he was challenging Cas to come out with it. To own up to it or just get Sam out of his misery. Cas wasn’t sure but he spoke anyways.

 

“Jessica is dead.” He didn’t give himself a chance to stop. “She was dead on arrival o the hospital. I have her chart and I can go over everything with—”

 

Cas shrieked, his breath being punched out of him because he was suddenly flung to the floor with six feet of Sam holding him down. Cas’s heart was racing because he could feel Sam’s unforgiving grip on his wrists as he held them against the floor and see the lost look in Sam’s eyes. It was as if he didn’t even recognize Castiel. “You…!” Sam spat out but couldn’t finish, his rage coming on too hard.

 

Then Sam was being pulled off him and Cas scrambled away from him instinctively. He saw Dean with his arms wrapped around Sam, holding him back with an intricate grip around his torso and became too aware of a stinging pain on his forearm. He turned to look at it and saw a scalpel sticking out because they had apparently knocked over a surgical trey or something.

 

A surgeon rushed toward Castiel, pulling him up and moving him to one of the beds so he could assess the wound while security dragged Sam out of the ER. The surgeon asked Castiel something—he wasn’t listening—and told him he’d need at least seven stiches.

 

All in all, it hadn’t gone precisely as Castiel had planned but then again, maybe he shouldn’t have tried to grasp other peoples’ grief.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are seriously no fun! I didn't think it had been too well hidden but that was way too easy to guess form the previous chapter.
> 
> I really liked the storyline with Jess and Sam and them starting a family but... yeah. Angst.
> 
> I promise it gets better though. okay, it gets worse before it gets better but it does get better.
> 
> Make sure to comment :)


	19. Route 666

Dean stood over the kitchen counter, glaring at the pot of water on the stove as if he could get it to the boiling point faster by sheer force of will. Of course he couldn’t and he ended up fidgeting as he waited.

 

Sammy had disappeared down the hallway the instant the door had closed behind them, without so much as a word. When Dean had tried to follow him, really not wanting to leave him alone, Sammy had shot him a look that, to put it kindly, left no room for arguing.

 

So Dean was making tea. Because they had just come back from the hospital where a surgeon had explained to Sam in detail how Jessica died and a grief councilor had tried to reassure him things would get better and it would alright for Sammy to grieve. And then the police had come so they could conduct the identification of all the bodies involved in the crash. A police officer had escorted Sammy to the morgue, Dean following no more than two steps behind them and Sammy had nodded once the officer unzipped the black body bag.

 

All this after Sam had attacked Cas.

 

Which Dean couldn’t get out of his mind.

 

Sammy wasn’t a violent person and if Dean were to be honest with himself, he’d say he was ten times more likely to punch out a guy than Sammy was. Then again, Cas had just told him that his fiancée was dead. Which caused Sammy to jump on Cas like a feral animal and Dean was too surprised to react at first. And Cas had actually gotten hurt. Dean had seen the blood as well as the scalpel protruding from Cas’s arm and he had felt sick. He had to physically fight the urge to rush to Castiel’s side and check on him because his brother needed him.

 

But Cas needed him as well. Actually, if Dean were to judge from the lost look on Cas’s pale face when he’d met them in the ER, he’d have to say Cas needed him a great fucking deal. But. Jess was dead. And he couldn’t leave Sammy.

 

And this whole obligation versus instinct thing inside his head made everything worse. It managed to pile on guilt to whatever the fuck Dean was feeling right now and guilt sure as hell wasn’t his favorite emotion.

 

Jess was dead and Dean was thinking about his boyfriend. But Cas wasn’t just his boyfriend. Right? Only if that were true, then it meant that Dean had left his ‘not just boyfriend’ alone after what had to be one of the nastiest traumas he had seen since starting his work at the hospital. Yeah, neither possibility looked particularly bright at the moment.

 

Thankfully, the kettle started whizzing and snapped Dean out of his internal debate.

 

He removed the kettle from the stove, letting it cool down for a moment as he started shifting through the cupboards in search of mugs. He finally found them but instead of picking out the ones that were in front, he grabbed two from the back. He thought maybe one of the front ones belonged to Jess and he absolutely did not want to go there.

 

He filled the cups with steaming tea but left his own on the counter before making his way down the hallway to Sam’s hiding place. Dean had supposed he would find Sam lying on his bed, maybe curled up into a fetal position with the lights turned off but he had been wrong.

 

His eyes instantly drifted to the nursery door and the soft light peeking out from underneath it. It wasn’t pulled shut so Dean slowly pushed it open and carefully stepped inside. He could feel a discreet sense of longing come at him in waves as he noticed the crib he and Sam had tried to put together only a couple of months and after failing exceptionally, asked for jess’s help because neither of them could do shit with an instruction manual. His gaze then roamed over the green walls he and Sam had painted, still under Jess’s supervision and he was swamped with images of them covered in green paint.

 

Dean felt hallow and as things were, he couldn’t even imagine how Sammy must feel, sitting in this room, all these memories threatening to suffocate him.

 

“I’m sorry I hit Cas.” Sammy said suddenly, his eyes darting to Dean for a minute before settling back into the empty space in front of him.

 

Dean belatedly realized Sammy was still wearing his suit but he didn’t think he would have any success in trying to get him out of it. “It’s okay.” he murmured softly even though it wasn’t but he didn’t have anything better to offer. And Sammy hadn’t spoken a word to Dean after getting to the hospital so he was more than willing to take what was being offered. He tried not to think of how he was letting Cas down by practically condemning Sammy’s actions.

 

“Is he hurt?”

 

“I don’t know.” Dean said, ignoring the sting of guilt that went through him at the words. He should know. If their positions were reversed, Dean had no doubt Cas would know.

 

“He needs you.” Sammy said, his voice clear.

 

“You need me.” Dean reasoned as he took a few steps towards Sammy’s direction. Once he was next to the rocking chair, he reached out and handed Sammy the cup, hoping the tea would help. He had no illusions about tea having magic healing powers but he couldn’t stand around doing nothing either.

 

Sammy took it, trying to smile as a thank you but stopping short halfway through his attempt. “I shouldn’t have jumped at him, Dean.”

 

Dean was about to say something soothing to Sam but the truth was… it had stung. When Sammy tackled Cas. Even if Dean knew it wasn’t technically Sam’s fault; that his brother couldn’t censor his reaction. But the thing was, this—blame, responsibility—it was something Cas was already struggling with and Dean couldn’t help thinking it was careless of Sammy to do that. And all that of course led to another self-deprecating round of guilt in Dean’s head. 

 

“No you shouldn’t have.” He muttered at last, unable and unwilling to keep it in any longer. He thought, if this was Sammy’s reaction to Cas giving him bad news, then a stranger’s reaction must be a dozen times worse. Suddenly, the whole ‘guilt’ thing was starting to make a lot more sense.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Dean sighed, lowering himself on the carpet covered hardwood across from the rocking chair. “Look, Cas knows you didn’t mean to and maybe later, you could tell him that but don’t worry about it now.” He placed his hand on his brother’s knee and gave it a squeeze, hoping Sam would understand that Dean would always be here. He didn’t think it could be enough for Sam but he wouldn’t leave.

 

Sam didn’t respond, merely started drinking his tea and relaxed back in the rocking chair. Dean let out a soft breath of relief because this could have been much worse. Dean dragged his hand away and wiggled backwards so he could lean against the wall. He had a feeling this would be a long night.

 

Dean started playing with a loose thread in his jeans when Sammy’s laugh made him look up. His brother was laughing, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the tea mug.

 

“You know, I always thought if I were to get a phone call telling me someone was dead, it would be you.” The laugh was turning hysterical, causing his brother to topple over, red in the face.

 

Dean didn’t know what to say; what he was supposed to say, even. He wasn’t expecting this reaction. He wasn’t expecting tears running down Sammy’s cheeks because he was laughing too hard or for him to start gasping for air because of the relentless courses of cackling that seemed to rock his six feet frame.

 

No. Dean was expecting tears of loss. He was expecting Sammy to be too devastated for laughing. He was expecting something like his own reaction when he had thought he would never have Cas again.

 

But Sammy was hysteric. Dean had never heard him laugh this hard in his entire life and he realized, he had gotten Cas back; Sammy would never get Jess back. Maybe Dean should give him what he wants and stop trying to compare their experiences.

 

So, despite his mood and the fact he had no fucking clue what he was doing, Dean joined him, laughing in a somewhat forced way but that seemed to be enough for Sammy. Sammy just laughed harder until the half empty mug of tea slipped from his fingers and fell on the carpet, staining the deep green with splotch of black. And then, without Dean realizing it, the laughing turned to howling. The straining tears from Sammy eyes turned to actual crying. The hand covering his mouth, trying to contain was now trying to keep down sobs.

 

Sammy fell forward, out of the chair and onto the floor on all fours, wailing and clutching at the carpet. Dean instantly crawled over to his side and wrapped his arms tightly around Sammy’s chest. His brother fought him and tired to brush Dean off but Dean only tightened his arms further because he had had enough panic attacks to recognize one from ten feet away.

 

“Sammy, Sammy, hey, look at me.” Dean said loudly, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “Look at me!” he repeated when he didn’t get a response.

 

Sammy finally looked up, his hands moving from the carpet to grab at Dean’s shirt.

 

“I want you to repeat after me, okay? Can you do that Sammy?” He waited for his brother’s faint nod. “My name is Sam Winchester, I’m in Chicago Illinois and I am alive.” Dean said clearly.

 

“My name…” Sammy choked on the sob clawing its way out of his throat.

 

“Come on, Sammy, just say it with me. My name…”

 

“My name is Sam Winchester. I’m in Chicago Illinois.” His hands released Dean’s shirt, leaving creases behind. “And I am alive.” The last part he said almost inaudibly before sitting back on his hills. Dean made him repeat it a few times until he was confident Sam wouldn’t choke himself on his own tears.

 

But then, the hectic crying seemed to stop turning instead into sniffling and soft tears and if it were possible, Dean thought this was even worse. He didn’t know what to do because Sammy was staring at the crib in front of him, lost in his own thoughts. He probably wouldn’t even notice it if Dean was to stand up and leave right now.

 

“She’s not though.” Sammy mumbled, his voice hoarse.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m alive. She’s not.” He said gravely, like he had just realized it. “I don’t even know… how did it happen? I had spoken to her just a few hours earlier. I had kissed her this morning. How could this have happened?” he didn’t sound hysterical now. No, he just sounded lost. Because Sammy was right. One minute Jess was alive and their baby kicking inside her and the next… she was dead. Even Dean had had a hard time grasping what the hell had gone down.

 

“I don’t know.” Dean mumbled quietly, not knowing if Sammy expected an answer.

 

“I don’t… I don’t understand it… I just. I know they explained it but it… it shouldn’t have happened. Does that make an awful person? That I wish it had been someone else?”

 

“No.” Dean said, firmly this time because god knew how many times he had wished not to be the one on that scouting charge. How many times he had wished they tortured someone else and not him. How many times he had wished someone else suffered through what he had. “It makes you human.” He said, because if anything, that he was sure of.

 

“I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.” His gaze flicked up to Dean’s eyes before settling back on the crib. “Is it better that I didn’t get to say goodbye?” he asked dazedly and Dean doubted Sammy would even hear his response.

 

“Yes.” Dean answered before he could think better of it. He had had the chance to say goodbye to Castiel before he left for his service in the marines; that hadn’t made it any better. Because every time his torturer touched him, all he could think about was Cas. How Cas touched him. How he kissed him. How he made him laugh. How he made him feel loved.

 

How they said goodbye and all the things Dean didn’t have a chance to say.

 

But that wasn’t the same as Sammy’s situation and Dean would never assume as much. No. Jess was dead and Sammy would never get to see her again. Nonetheless, Dean pondered if maybe Sam would feel the same way about other women. But it wasn’t time for that now, Dean supposed.

 

“How do you know?” Of course Sammy heard him and his tone was accusatory like it should.

 

Dean sighed, biting his lip. “I’ll tell you some other time, okay?” because he had never officially talked to his brother about his captivity and in order to explain his answer he would have to. He didn’t want the first time to do so to be just after Sammy had lost Jess.

 

Sammy huffed at that but Dean didn’t take it to heart. God knew he had been in a pretty bad place once he’d come back and he had said some damn awful things to Sammy. Things he wished he could take back and even though he’d apologized and Sammy had sworn he had forgiven them, Dean knew his bother would always remember.

 

Thankfully, Sam didn’t push Dean for a clearer answer. “We picked green because Jess didn’t want pink—even though it was for a girl. She said she didn’t want to be a cliché.” There was a faint smile in his voice like he was remembering something pleasant.

 

“That’s nice.” Dean said, for lack of anything else, even though he already knew this. He briefly wondered if this was what Cas felt like every time had an episode.

 

“I’m tired.” Sammy mumbled but made no move to stand up.

 

“Do you want to sleep?”

 

“Yeah, I think I could.” His brother nodded, using his shirtsleeve to rub his runny nose. He didn’t move though so Dean stood up and put a hand on his shoulder to guide him up.

 

Dean started walking him to his bedroom but Sammy’s breath wheezed, like someone had punched him in the stomach, just outside the door.

 

“I…” His brother tensed all over, planting his feet firmly on the floor.

 

Dean belatedly realized Sammy probably wouldn’t want to sleep in a bed with so many memories. A bed where he had proposed to Jess. “Couch?” he offered and Sammy gave him an unsteady nod.

 

They walked slowly to the couch where Sammy just collapsed, the day finally taking its toll on him. “Do you want me to bring you some clothes?” He asked as Sammy took off his shoes and suit jacket before lying down. He didn’t get an answer but he went to the bedroom and grabbed a blanket he found in one of the closets. By the time he walked back to he living room, Sammy had already closed his eyes and tucked himself as far back in the couch as he could. Dean draped the blanket over him and took a seat in the armchair across from the couch.

 

He took his phone out and contemplated calling Castiel. His fingers itched for it actually but he didn’t know what he could say over the phone. And a phone call would only make him want to see Cas even more and would Cas even want to see him?

 

Dean recognized the litany of guilt that was making its way through his mind. Because he had nothing to do now. Sammy was asleep and Jess was dead and Dean had nothing to do other than sit here, in the armchair, watching over his brother and thinking about his ‘not just boyfriend’.

 

So he thought. He thought of how Sammy’s fiancée had died for no good reason and now Sammy would have to… what? Rebuild his entire life? Would he even be able to do that?

 

That was when reality struck him: people came and went. One minute you were kissing the woman you loved goodbye and then next, you got a call saying she was dead.

 

Dean jumped up and ran to the kitchen where he found a post-it pad. He scribbled down ‘went to Cas’s. be right back.’ And stuck the note on the coffee table where he hoped Sammy would see it if he woke up before Dean got back.

 

*****

 

He parked his car in the driveway in front of Cas’s house, glad to find the lights turned on because he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Cas not being here. He hadn’t really considered what he was going to say either but he could improvise.

 

He knocked on the door twice with no response and started to worry that Cas may not be home after all and that kind of screwed with his plans. Dean frowned and turned around, only now noticing Cas’s car in front of the garage. He rang the doorbell again, ignoring the voice in his head telling him that Castiel probably didn’t want to see him. He had come to realize the voice was full of it half the times anyway.

 

Finally, on the third ring, the door was pulled open and Dean saw Cas standing in front of him, obviously irritated that he had to drag himself to the door in the first place. His expression softened once he saw Dean though and he took a step back, allowing for Dean to come inside.

 

Dean noticed there was a white bandage wrapped around Cas’s left forearm and he was barely inside the house before he threw his arms around Cas and pulled him to his chest. Castiel was wearing his pajamas but he hadn’t been sleeping; no; his body was too alert for that. Dean suddenly felt guilty that he hadn’t gotten here sooner but he knew, even coming here now was a stretch. He still worried that Sammy might wake up and not find him there but his brother was right. Cas needed him, too.

 

By now, Dean had it all down. When Castiel had a rough day at the hospital, when he had a surgery that after too many hours ended in literal bloodshed, when the list of traumas had been just too long, that was when he let his unbelievably cool and collected façade crack. More often than not, it was cracking in the way of sexual frustration; other times it was silent crying or washing thoroughly. In any case though, Cas always held on to Dean. Ever since that first time, the time Dean had had that awful nightmare that would haunt him forever, ever since then, Cas didn’t try and push Dean away. Instead, he pulled him closer; he clutched at Dean’s shirt and allowed Dean to be here for him like he had so many times for Dean.

 

And Dean… well, Dean was glad that Cas wasn’t as balanced as let on. He relaxed because these moments, sparse as they were, they permitted him to see that Cas was just human; that they were equals of sorts. He was glad that he could do for Castiel even a small part of Castiel did for him.

 

This time, Castiel didn’t cry and he already smelled of soap. This time, Cas’s hand carded through Dean’s hair and pulled his face back so his lips could ravish Dean’s neck. And Dean, strangely, he smiled.

 

Castiel started nibbling at his throat, small bites, just a faint hint of pain before he soothed the skin with his tongue. His hips pressed into Dean’s and he was already half-hard. Dean was sure, had this been any other time, Castiel would feel guilty for his actions and Dean would be more than a little apprehensive. As it was though, Dean grabbed fistfuls of Castiel’s t-shirt and brought their bodies closer together before leaning down to kiss him.

 

Sometimes, the kisses they shared would be gentle or slow or a plain press of lips but this time, this time they were hungry. Cas’s tongue was dancing over Dean’s teeth while his hands traveled to grab handfuls of Dean’s ass only to knead it roughly. Dean gave an unexpected moan into Cas’s mouth, surprising even himself with his reaction.

 

Castiel pulled away, his pupils completely blown and gazing at Dean’s swollen lips. “Upstairs.” He muttered breathlessly, taking hold of Dean’s hand to drag him to the bedroom.

 

Dean felt as if he was in a haze; he kept waiting to snap out of it. To tell Castiel that they were moving too fast or that he couldn’t go any further but the fact that he hadn’t yet only fueled his desire and his resolve not to do so. Every time they did this with Castiel he felt that he got to have a piece of him back; every time he responded to Cas’s lips or his hands, he felt a little bit more like himself. And this time wasn’t any different.

 

Cas didn’t even to stop to turn the lights on in the bedroom, settling for the faint light coming from the open bathroom door. He unceremoniously pushed Dean on the bed and quickly but efficiently dissolved him of his shoes and jeans before taking off his own pajamas and climbing on top him to straddle his hips.

 

Dean brought his hands underneath Cas’s t-shirt and raked his fingernails over the smooth skin of his back, making Cas arch as he leaned over Dean. Dean tilted his head up and captured Cas’s mouth, his lips open as he sucked on Cas’s tongue and snaked his fingers underneath the elastic band of the man’s boxers. He rubbed his hands over Cas’s ass, hesitantly at first because so far, they had very carefully and very deliberately stirred clear of that kind of contact.

 

Castiel actually mewled though and Dean slowly pulled his cheeks apart and grazed over the tight hole while he grinded his hips upwards, pressing his erection against Castiel’s.

 

Gauging his reaction, Dean moved his fingers inwards and gently pulled at the few hairs there, remembering how he could make Cas virtually come apart if he kept doing that. Castiel, apparently not having changed much, moaned and shifted his knees further apart so he could give Dean better access. Dean could feel Cas’s dick leaking through his underwear and he was sure he himself was in much of the same predicament.

 

Castiel suddenly jumped off him but before Dean could start to worry he noticed Cas was only pulling off his underwear and t-shirt. Dean gazed at his chest hungrily and he realized he had almost forgotten what this felt like—when his mouth watered at the sight of someone’s body. But this wasn’t just someone, this was Castiel and he must have noticed Dean looking because his breath started coming faster. Their eyes locked, conveying so many questions and answers all at the same time before Cas moved away so he could remove Dean’s remaining clothes as well.

 

When Cas climbed on top of him again, Dean’s breath hitched as he felt Cas’s skin against his and the heat reradiating from his body. Cas gazed down at him, his eyes glistening and his lips parted and Dean groaned because Cas had found jut the right angle and had started to grind their cocks together, the heads minutely catching against each other before sliding down each other’s shaft.

 

“Cassss.” Dean hissed, his toes curling together as his hands found Cas’s hips and held on for dear life.

 

Cas looked at him, pleadingly and even though it had been too damn long since Dean had seen that desperate, wild look in those eyes, he still remembered it. “Please.” Was the only thing out of Castiel’s lips and if Dean’s eyes hadn’t been so intent on Cas’s face, he would surely have mistaken it for breath.

 

Dean brought two of his fingers to Castiel’s mouth, gasping as the other man closed his lips around them and moaned shamelessly, his tongue coating them liberally with saliva. Castiel eyes drifted shut and he looked so lost in pleasure Dean thought could make him cum just like this but that wouldn’t be good enough this time. He removed his fingers, eliciting a whimper from Cas but used his clean hand to pull his hair and crash their mouth together again in a bruising kiss.

 

His saliva-sleeked fingers found their way down Cas’s crack and pressed against the puckered hole, making Castiel arch and shake their rhythm off a little bit but it was worth it. Because Castiel started to whimper and push back against Dean’s fingers as if he was trying to swallow them inside.

 

“Please, Dean.” Castiel cried quietly, is body trembling on top of Dean’s.

 

“Yeah, Cas.” He murmured absently, finally pressing the tip of his index finger inside Castiel. he didn’t want to hear Cas beg; not now.

 

“More, more, more; please, Dean.” Castiel, chanted, too far-gone to do anything other than rest his sweat-streaked head on Dean’s shoulder.

 

Dean nodded and placed a kiss on Cas’s temple, deciding he was done with teasing. “Shh, I got you, baby.” He whispered and felt a shudder make its way down Cas’s body before pushing his finger deeper.

 

The angle wasn’t perfect and it had been way too long since the last he did this but he would make this good for Cas. He grinded his hips up while pushing his finger inwards and Castiel’s hand wrapped around Dean’s bicep, nails digging harshly into skin. “Oh, god.” Castiel breathed out as Dean found a rhythm, restlessly working his finger inside him. “Please, just a little more.”

 

“Yeah, baby, anything you need.” Dean mumbled, biting at the juncture between Cas’s neck and shoulder before wiggling his forefinger alongside his index.

 

Cas’s breath hitched in his chest and Dean gave him a moment, using his free hand to stroke his back until he felt him breathe out and relax around him. Dean tried to calm his own breathing because he could feel his breaking point getting closer and he had promised to make this good for Cas.

 

He pressed his fingers deeper, trying to find the spot to make Cas jump off the mattress while continuing the grind of his hips. Cas was falling apart on top off him; Dean could feel him shaking and gasping, moaning every time Dean twisted his fingers and he held on to him more firmly. Cas suddenly, shifted, changing the angle their erections moved together and Dean almost lost it right then and there.

 

He gave his fingers a particularly hard twist as he pressed the pads downwards and Castiel cried out, hand clutching at any part of Dean they could find. Dean did it again he could swear Cas stopped breathing for a moment.

 

“Come on, Cas.” He whispered tightly. “Come for me.” He pressed at the bundle nerves again and felt Cas tighten up as he came with a sharp cry, all over their stomach and his release tipped Dean over as well, only a few seconds later.

 

Cas turned completely lax on Dean’s chest, breathing heavily with his nose pressed against Dean’s neck. Dean held him as he came down, slowly removing one finger and then the next, making Castiel gasp at the loss. He tenderly rubbed his fingers over Cas’s hole, willing it closed and settling the confused muscle back into place. He kept his hand on Cas’s ass while he used the other one to sub circles onto his back, uncaring of the sheen of sweat covering both their bodies and deciding to focus instead on how warm Cas felt.

 

Dean took a moment to review how their positions were suddenly reversed: he was the one comforting Castiel and even though he had done so before, this time felt different. He wasn’t sure if it was the events leading up to this or the intimate way they touched but Dean was sure something between them had shifted. Abruptly, a sort of melancholy overtook him as he remembered why he had come here in the first place. He wondered how he could have forgotten about it so easily but he supposed, nothing about this had been easy.

 

Cas must have sensed it too because he instantly tensed up and tried to pull away from Dean. “Oh, no, no. You’re not going anywhere.” Dean mumbled, his arms tightening around Castiel.

 

Castiel snorted and even though Dean couldn’t see his face, he was sure the snort had been accompanied with an eye-roll. “Well, I was going to suggest moving because this will start drying soon but suit yourself.” He shrugged and Dean relaxed when Castiel settled back on top of him.

 

The man did have a point though because Dean was already starting to feel tacky and even though the compulsion to get clean hadn’t showed its ugly face yet, it inevitably would in a few minutes.

 

Dean regrettably shifted a little and allowed Cas to roll off his chest, taking note of the way their stomachs had already started to stick together. Castiel laid on his side, turned towards Dean, deep blue eyes peering up to him through dark lashes.

 

“I—”

 

“Don’t apologize.” Dean cut him off because he knew this was what was coming.

 

Cas sighed, his hand reaching out to draw lazy patterns on Dean’s chest. “I need to, Dean.”

 

“No you don’t. What we did just now, I enjoyed it. I could’ve stopped you at any time and didn’t and trust me when I tell you, it felt pretty damn hot.” Dean smiled despite himself; he could still feel the way Castiel shook as he touched him.

 

“I don’t want you to think you don’t have a choice. Because I jumped at you the minute you came through the door and it was inappropriate. You didn’t come here so we could do _this_ and I didn’t respect that.”

 

Dean swallowed, stilling Cas’s hand on his chest with his own and threading their fingers together. “I came here because I wanted to be here for you.” He said solemnly, eyes turned to the dark ceiling. “And don’t talk about what we did like… like it wasn’t… just, it’s a big deal, okay?”

 

Castiel didn’t miss a beat before replying. “You’re right. I apologize. I do think it’s big deal and I want you to know that it was great.” Dean could hear Cas’s gratitude carved into his voice but he wasn’t sure what Cas was grateful for. “I’m just not sure it was… appropriate.”

 

“Oh, Jesus… you and your propriety.” he muttered good-naturedly.

 

Cas chuckled and the air in the room felt lighter. “Thank you.” He said suddenly.

 

“You don’t have to thank me for this. I mean I know it… I… “ Dean struggled for the right words. “We don’t do this often but you never have to thank me for it.” He could feel himself blush which was completely unreasonable because he just had his fingers in Cas’s ass.

 

“Yeah, I do. Because it’s a struggle and you did it to… you did it to me feel good.”

 

“Hey, don’t go thinking I have such selfless motives. I enjoyed it quite a bit if you didn’t notice.” Dean joked and for a minute he fought with his own sense of propriety. Should he be joking mere hours after Jess’s death. “It didn’t feel like a struggle this time.” He said soberly. “It didn’t… I didn’t have to fight with the flashbacks or the agitation of the possibility of reliving something. It felt good.” Then again, should he be feeling good this soon?

 

“You deserve to feel good.” Cas said quickly, as if he had read Dean’s mind. “How is...” Dean heard him swallow. “How is Sam?”

 

Dean could make a comeback about how they shouldn’t be discussing family now, not ten minutes after they had sex and are still naked but he couldn’t bring himself to. “He’s sleeping now. I can’t stay.” He murmured apologetically but he knew Cas would understand.

 

“Yeah, you should go back. I just… wish, I guess? I don’t know.” Castiel wished he could’ve helped Jessica; Dean didn’t need for him to finish his sentence.

 

“He said he was sorry; that he shouldn’t have jumped at you.” Then he remembered the scalpel. “How’s your arm?” he asked hurriedly, guilty he hadn’t thought to ask sooner.

 

“Seven stiches.” Cas shrugged.

 

Dean turned his head to the side so he could look at Castiel. His eyes seemed sad and he was gazing at the blue bedspread. “Do you think it was your fault?” Dean asked quietly, moving closer to Castiel and shifting on his side.

 

“Intellectually I know it wasn’t… I mean they didn’t even have time to bring her to the ER.” Castiel reasoned, instinctively moving closer to Dean, his body seeking comfort. “Maybe it’s just the weight of the day. Maybe it will feel better tomorrow.” He sounded doubtful. “How do you feel?”

 

“I don’t think it’s hit me yet. I have an appointment with Crowley tomorrow though so that should be good.”

 

“Everything just collapsed around him so quickly.” Cas whispered, something resembling fear written on his voice.

 

“I’m not going anywhere. Not again.” Dean knew he shouldn’t ever make those kinds of promises but he did anyway and he leaned in to press his lips to Cas’s forehead. His skin was starting to feel itchy. He tried to figure out how long they had been laying here like this and thought it should be at least fifteen minutes. He suddenly felt proud of himself that he hadn’t started to feel like this sooner. Dean knew Cas must have noticed this as well but chose not to mention it.

 

“I think—” Dean started to pull away slowly.

 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

 

Dean regarded Cas for a minute but eventually shook his head. It wasn’t bad yet but he guessed if he didn’t get it over with it would turn worse. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” He smiled but didn’t kiss Castiel before going to the bathroom. He didn’t close the door behind him though, either.

 

Dean stood under the spray, rubbing at his skin with a sponge an abundance of soap. The water was slightly too hot and he was rubbing with a little too much force but he was finished relatively quickly. At some point, Castiel came into the bathroom and used a washcloth to clean himself up over the sink. He gave Dean a smile and closed the door once he left.

 

Dean wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way to the bedroom, finding Castiel already tucked under the sheets, the lamp on the bedside table turned on. “I have to go.” He told Castiel, cringing a little into himself because there was light in the room now and Cas could definitely see his body. Not that he couldn’t before, Dean reasoned; in fact, Cas had seen him a few times and never judged, never told Dean he was anything short of beautiful so why did he still feel like this.

 

“Don’t do that.” Castiel said, looking a lot more tired than he had before. “Don’t hide. I love you and your scars are part of you.” He said sleepily and even though Dean still felt uncomfortable, he managed to pull his clothes on quickly without running to the bathroom.

 

Once he was dressed, his hair still slightly damp, he made his way to the bed so he could kiss Castiel again. It wasn’t hurried this time, or desperate; merely a goodbye and press of lips.

 

“Don’t overwork yourself tomorrow.” Dean told Castiel and if it were up to him, he’d tell Castiel to stay home tomorrow but he knew how unlikely that was.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” He flipped Dean off with a smile. “Don’t worry too much?”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

Dean dragged himself away before he could change his mind. He suddenly felt very cold once he left Castiel’s bedroom and tried not to think too hard on it. He had to get back to Sammy. Sammy who had just lost the person he loved most in this world and their unborn child. Sammy, who needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like and make sure to comment :)


	20. Houses Of The Holy

Dean became aware of a foot nudging his calf and slowly opened his eyes. He saw his brother leaning over him, holding a cup of coffee, still dressed in the suit he was wearing yesterday. Dean took a minute to look around and saw sunlight bursting in from the windows; he figured he must have fallen asleep in the armchair after he got back from Cas’s last night.

 

“Morning. I didn’t want to wake you but I didn’t know if you had to go to work.” Sammy muttered, pushing the cup towards Dean.

 

Dean cleared his throat and took it. “No, I’m not going.” He didn’t think he should leave Sammy alone today.

 

“Babysitting?” Sammy grumbled but he didn’t sound annoyed at Dean. If anything he relaxed a little as he went to sit on the sofa. “I called and told my boss what happened.” He said suddenly, surprising Dean.

 

“How long have you been up for exactly?” Dean narrowed his eyes because he really was wondering. His brother wasn’t particularly functional for at least an hour after waking up and now he had managed to make coffee _and_ call his boss.

 

“Three hours. Couldn’t really sleep any more.”

 

“What did your boss say?”

 

Sammy sighed, as if remembering the conversation tires him. Dean can’t blame him. “Take as much time as I need but I think that translates to no more than four weeks.”

 

Dean nodded his acknowledgement and drunk some of his coffee. He checked his watch and saw it was eleven. He had gotten more than four hours of decent sleep, even though his neck was all fucked up from sleeping sitting down.

 

“You shouldn’t have slept like that.” His brother pointed out as he saw Dean trying to work the crooks out of is neck. “You could… like, take the bed. It’s no problem really.” But Sammy was forcing the words out.

 

“Nah, it’s okay. I think I’ve just gotten old.”

 

His brother shrugged, if a little relieved but he didn’t look as strung out as he did yesterday. Dean realized he was once again at a loss as to what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to talk to Sammy about the elephant in the room or just ignore it? Was he supposed to stay here the whole day or give Sammy space? At least he had an appointment with Crowley today and he could ask him about it. Crowley was bound to know and Dean was hoping he would be able to give him some desperately needed advice.

 

“What are you going to do today?” Sammy asked him at some point, as Dean was busy staring off into space, trying to take a mental note of all the things he wanted to ask Crowley.

 

“Uhm, I have a session at six… with my psychiatrist but other than that, nothing.” Dean answered, somewhat self-consciously because he and Sammy never actively talked about Crowley or what exactly had driven Dean to him.

 

“How is that working out?” Sammy was trying to pull off casual but the intensity of his gaze was kinda ruining it for him.

 

Dean shrugged, a little exaggerated. “It’s hard but… I don’t know, he makes it better.” He leaned forward and set his half empty cup on the coffee table.

 

“I remember you had tried before.” Sammy was treading carefully, cautious of Dean’s boundaries. Dean was grateful for it since he wasn’t sure he wanted to go all out with Sammy. At least not now.

 

“Yeah… I guess it needs to be on your own terms, therapy. I don’t think it would have worked if I’d done it sooner.”

 

“Because of Cas?”

 

“Probably.” Dean nodded tightly. “He… it’s like, in order to be with him, I need to face up to what happened? Does that make sense?” if Sammy was Crowley, Dean wouldn’t have to worry about getting his point across but his brother wasn’t a trained psychologist so Dean would have to try a little harder. “I have to fight what’s keeping me back.”

 

“Yeah, I get that.” And to Dean’s surprise, Sammy gave him a smile. Sure, it was tired and not too bright but Dean could tell Sammy was happy for him. “I called him this morning. I think I woke him up, really.” He said abruptly.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yeah. I apologized.” Sammy folded his hands on his lap. “He didn’t even sound upset.” His said it like he was wondering how that could be.

 

“Cas has… he’s done this a lot.” Dean was hoping Sammy would understand without his having to spell it out. He had a feeling Sammy would appreciate that as well. “Delivered bad news. He gets people’s reactions.”

 

Sammy nodded but it was obvious he wasn’t convinced. “I still shouldn’t have jumped him. I mean, he looked like he was pretty messed up when he told me.”

 

“He takes it personally.” Personally enough that it messes him up for days afterwards sometimes, but Dean didn’t tell his brother so.

 

Sammy didn’t say anything to that so Dean stood up and went to the bathroom. He felt like he needed to busy himself with something, like if he didn’t have time to worry about Jess and his brother, then it suddenly wouldn’t be this bad. He guessed Sammy must feel like that.

 

When Dean got back to the living room, his brother didn’t seem to want to talk any more and Dean didn’t push. He kept trying to remember what it felt like after he’d gotten back from Iraq and everyone just wanted him to talk. Up until now, he’d thought maybe he had forgotten a little but he discovered the memories were closer to the surface than he’d assumed. So Dean let his brother gaze onto space, his eyes locked on one of his and Jess’s pictures hugging, displayed proudly on top of the fireplace.

 

******

 

In the end, his session with Crowley really did manage to give him some solid footing with Sammy. When Dean left his office, he felt a lot more confident and also, a lot more understanding of his own feelings. Crowley had paid particular attention to telling him that he had lost someone too and there wasn’t only one particular way in which people grieved. He said that Dean was allowed to be selfish and he didn’t have to choose between his brother and Cas but he should take something for himself as well.

 

That night, Dean went to Cas’s house, if only for a few hours because he still felt drained after his session and he needed something his brother couldn’t give him. Something no one other than Cas could give him.

 

When he got back to Sammy’s apartment, his brother was sleeping on the couch, curled into himself but he was at least wearing pajamas and not a suit. The house had obviously been thoroughly cleaned and the kitchen smelled of lemon and chlorine. Dean didn’t have anything to do other than take a seat in the armchair and close his eyes. If he felt some guilt, it was considerably less than the night before.

 

******

 

By the end of the week, Dean felt confident enough that he went back to work. He purposefully took on the nights shifts, even though they tended to make him a lot more anxious and strung out so he could go to his house and sleep for a few hours in the mornings because that armchair was really screwing up his neck. Afterwards, he went to Sammy’s and they had lunch and hanged out for the rest of the day. His brother had taken up to cleaning every day and compulsory arranging things in his appartment but it seemed to help him, get his mind off what was happening around him. He still didn’t mention it or Jessica and Dean didn’t want to push him even if he sometimes felt like he had to.

 

Whenever he managed to meet with Cas, it was quick and a little hurried but Cas never complained about Dean’s lack of time. If Dean were honest, he wouldn’t even be mad at Cas for doing so but he still grateful for Cas’s patience. Their talk about moving together had been put on hold for the moment and they didn’t do anything other than kiss briefly but by the time they went their separate ways, Dean would always smile giddily for the next hour or so.

 

Then, of course, came Jessica’s funeral. Dean had secretly been thinking about it for the past couple of days but he didn’t want to mention it to Sammy. However, when the funeral home called and said that they would have to decide in the next twenty-four hours, Dean couldn’t ignore it anymore.

 

Sammy and he had just finished eating lunch and were sitting in the living room when Dean decided to bring it up. “Sammy, you need to make the arrangements.” His brother didn’t give any sign of acknowledgment but Dean knew Sammy had heard him. “I know you don’t want to but you have to.”

 

“It’s none of your business.” Sammy snapped, his hands tightening into fists were they were griping his thighs.

 

Dean ignored the twinge of hurt at that and took a deep breath to keep his voice calm. “Sammy—”

 

“Just don’t Dean!”

 

“Do you think if you ignore it for long enough it’s gonna go away? It doesn’t work like that.” Dean insisted but his tone was gentle.

 

His brother snorted but made no move to leave so Dean considered this a success so far. “Well, you would know.”

 

Dean had to take another deep breath and remind himself that Sammy didn’t mean it. That he was just upset and was looking for a way out of this. “Yes, I would and it doesn’t go away.” He shifted closer to Sammy on the couch and placed a hand on his brother’s back. “I know it seems like a lot but… let’s take it one step at a time. You need to do this now; you can worry about everything later.” Dean said patiently. Frankly, he would make the arrangements himself if he knew Jess like his brother did but as it was, he didn’t want to make a mistake. This was too serious to mess with.

 

Sammy was quiet for a long time afterwards but neither of them moved. Then, Sammy slightly leaned into Dean and let out a sob that he tried to stifle into Dean’s shirt. It was still too loud and heartbreaking and Dean wrapped his arms around his brother a let him cry on his shoulder. He didn’t feel as helpless this time and he couldn’t say why but he didn’t care. The first time Sammy had broken down it had felt like stress relief, maybe realization. This time felt like acceptance and permission and closure all wrapped into one. He rubbed his hands over Sammy’s back, coaxing it out of him.

 

Dean didn’t know how long they sat like that but once Sammy had stopped crying and lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder, he asked for the phone. He sounded surprisingly steady when he said he’d like the body to be cremated and arranged for the service at a church in Chicago.

 

******

 

Jessica was religious, not the church going kind but Sammy had arranged for a reading in a church anyways. Her parents died a while ago and she didn’t have any other immediate family. The attendance was mostly friends or coworkers.

 

Dean himself had lost faith in god a while ago, somewhere around seeing amputated kids dragging themselves through the streets in Iraq and being violated with a broken beer bottle. He listened to what the priest had to say though and he found it oddly soothing. The priest didn’t speak of god’s plan or heavenly life but of loss and impact. Of forgiveness and sympathy and the process of mourning. It felt cleansing and maybe a little optimist without being patronizing.

 

Once again, Dean was surprised—no, he was amazed—by how Sam kept himself together through the endless parade of people paying their respects and saying how sorry they were. Dean tried not to but he imagined himself in Sam’s shoes and he thought he’d have punched half of them out because they had no clue what they were talking about. Sammy took it in stride though and he thanked all of them, looking even halfway genuine.

 

That night, Dean followed Sammy back to his house and stared as Sammy walked down the hallway and collapsed, face down and still dressed in his suit, on his and Jessica’s bed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad chapter but somewhat necessary i think


	21. The Devil You Know

Dean found himself, once again, fidgeting as he sat across from is brother, eating lunch. Things between them were now a lot less strained but Dean still struggled for the right words, constantly examining everything in his head before he said it out loud. He wondered if this was what Sammy had been going through in the months following Dean’s return from Iraq but decided the answer was no. What Sammy had been going through was probably a lot worse. Dean was probably a lot more volatile back then than Sammy was now.

 

Sammy, however, seemed clueless to Dean’s internal qualms, opting to shove some fries in his mouth instead. Dean narrowed his eyes at him because Sammy usually avoided fast food, even when they were eating at a fast food restaurant.

 

“What?” Sammy shrugged, more than a little defensively. “I was in the mood for French fires.”

 

And well, Dean wasn’t gonna argue to that so he stuffed his own mouth with some cheeseburger. “So, how did it go at the office?” He asked, once he had swallowed.

 

“Didn’t really stay for long. I just talked to my boss and grabbed the files I needed.” Sammy mumbled. “I have another week off but I can’t just sit around doing nothing all day.”

 

Even though Dean had been surprised by Sammy’s sudden willingness to get to work, he knew first hand how annoying it was, having nothing to do. Nothing but think and remember and regret. Dean could see Sammy getting restless and irritable so he was glad his brother had an outlet.

 

“Yeah, it sucks.” He settled for saying, for lack of anything else. He was still having a hard time with the whole ‘comfort’ thing, even though Crowley proved to be helpful in giving Dean some advice on what to say.

 

“How was work?” Sammy asked, chewing on his straw as he drunk some soda.

 

“Eeh, the usual.” Dean shrugged, dipping a fry in to some ketchup and bringing it to his lips. “Some idiot decided to be idiotic and then someone else had to prevent him from it.” He said casually. At times, he found his indifference for the things he saw disconcerting but mostly he knew it was because very little could surprise him anymore. He considered robbers with assault riffles and hostage situations an everyday fixture and though it wasn’t normal, he wasn’t sure he could live without them. The ability to help people when they needed it the most, keep them safe but while retaining his distance was rewarding in a way.

 

“You have an appointment today?” Sammy was making an effort to keep his tone casual but Dean thought he might be getting somewhere with the question.

 

“Yeah.” Dean checked his watch. “I have another hour or so, though.”

 

“It’s just… I wanted to ask you something.” Sammy’s turned to the table and it briefly reminded Dean of himself and what he did when he wanted to avoid something.

 

“Shoot.” He said encouragingly. In the past two weeks, his brother hadn’t been talking much and today was actually the first today he left the house after the funeral so Dean was going to be as supportive as he could.

 

Sammy started chewing on the inside of his cheek but Dean didn’t push him, deciding to give him some time instead. “It’s… about something you said, that night.”

 

Dean nodded decisively, wiping his hands clean with a paper towel. He wasn’t really expecting to get out of that so easily and he knew he would have to answer eventually.

 

“You said it was better that I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Sammy’s voice was oddly steady, like he was determined to get an answer no matter what Dean said.

 

“Yes, I think it is better.” Dean swallowed because he had planned how he was going to explain this to his brother but he didn’t think it would be in a fast food joint, just after Sammy had lost Jess. “There are some things I haven’t told you and… well, I didn’t want to and I didn’t think I needed to.” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I… I really don’t know how to say this because…” Dean sighed and even though he had practiced this conversation over and over in his head, he was now at a loss for words.

 

Sammy was looking at him though, expectant and hopeful and more than a little satisfied like he had been waiting for this all along. Dean knew his brother had guessed some, if not most, of the things that had happened to him during his second tour but he had never mentioned anything and Dean was grateful. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to take it well if his brother had said something sooner.

 

Dean took a deep breath and braced himself. He didn’t think Sammy would be disgusted or make him feel embarrassed but he was never able to completely shake the sense of shame when he talked about this, even when he was with Crowley. “They kept me hostage for thirteen months and… they tortured me.” Dean had to force the words out and around the lump that had formed in his throat. “Physically. And, you know… like, sexually.” He doubted his voice was even audible by the end and he didn’t dare to look up to Sammy’s eyes again, settling for glaring at his half eaten burger instead.

 

Sammy didn’t say anything and Dean saw him getting up from the coroner of his eye but before he could panic too much, Sammy took a seat in the chair beside him and placed his hand between Dean’s shoulder blades. Sammy’s palm was warm and Dean found the gesture strangely comforting, relaxing back into his chair now that he had finally confessed to his brother.

 

“I know.” Sammy nodded, his voice quiet as he spoke but his hand didn’t leave Dean’s back. “I’m glad you told me though.” He said, completely sincere and Dean wondered why he had even doubted his brother.

 

Dean cleared his throat again and pulled himself together because he and his brother were close but he wasn’t about to have an emotional episode in the middle of McDonald’s. “Thank you. For not freaking out, I mean.”

 

Sammy chuckled somewhat flatly but Dean would take it. He didn’t think he had seen Sammy crack any sort of smile ever since the car crash. “You’re welcome.”

 

“But. That’s not really what I meant.” Dean got back to the point because he wanted to explain what he meant and he didn’t have too much time before his appointment with Crowley. “Before I left for my first tour, I said goodbye to Cas and then we fought and then we said goodbye again for real. The thing is, and I know it’s not the same as with you and Jess but, I kept thinking, when they were torturing me, when I thought I really wasn’t going to come back, I kept thinking of all the things I should have said but didn’t. Of how I had taken everything for granted, you know? The mistakes I had made and the time I had wasted and it was eating me up inside.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I guess it would probably feel the same if I hadn’t said goodbye but I feel like… nothing I could have ever said was going to be enough.”

 

Sammy was quiet for a long moment but Dean didn’t think it was because he was upset or angry. He merely seemed to be thinking on it. “I get what you mean.” He said eventually, breaking the silence. “But it’s the same thing. I can’t stop thinking of everything I should have said and done, even though I know it doesn’t make any difference.” Sammy spoke slowly, like it was a struggle to make every one word come out. Dean knew the feeling.

 

“Yeah.” Dean mumbled distractedly.

 

Sammy patted his back and stood up to return to his seat, across from Dean. “Does Cas know?” He asked abruptly, startling Dean.

 

“Yes. I told him.” Dean said confidently, feeling protective of Cas even though he knew Sammy didn’t mean it in an offensive way.

 

“That’s good.” Sammy nodded, his voice strangely vehement. “I still think you deserve to be happy”

 

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, suddenly speechless because his brother had just lost his fiancé but he still insisted on Dean’s being happy. “Thank you.” He settled for saying, even though it hardly covered what he really felt.

 

Thankfully, Sammy smiled a little like he knew what Dean meant.

 

******

 

Dean took his regular seat in the black leather armchair across from Crowley, feeling unusually nervous. In fact, he realized he hadn’t felt this wound up since his very first session with the doctor, which in itself was a testament of how much he absolutely did not want to have this conversation with him. He knew it needed to be done though and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was finally time.

 

“You seem agitated.” Crowley observed, not even bothering to take his eyes off the yellow notepad, where he was hurriedly jotting down notes.

 

“I think we should talk about sex.” And Dean really hadn’t meant for that to come out but, in a way, he was grateful that it did and the whole thing was out of the way so they could talk.

 

Dean’s answer made Crowley look up, his face pulled in a funny way, making it obvious he was trying not to smirk.

 

If Dean didn’t know Crowley so well, he might have been offended or even discouraged by the doctor’s reaction. As it was, though, having been visiting him for over three months, he knew the smirk was Crowley’s de facto reaction whenever he felt particularly satisfied. The doctor didn’t grace Dean often with that particular smirk and the fact that he was doing it now gave Dean the confidence he needed.

 

“I agree.” Crowley nodded, pushing the pad aside and sitting back in his own armchair. “Did you have something particular in mind or would you rather talk in the abstract?”

 

Dean’s eyes drifted to the luxurious carpet beneath his feet and he quickly blurted out the words. “Anal sex.”

 

“I see. Go on.” He prompted and Dean had a feeling Crowley was more than a little excited. Maybe Crowley was a smidge over invested in Dean’s sex life.

 

“Before… before everything, when Cas and I were together I really liked… you know.” And Dean was really hoping the doctor knew because he didn’t think there was any way to get more flushed that he was now.

 

“No, I don’t actually.” The doctor grinned, challenging Dean to keep going. “But feel free to continue. I think I’m bound to start catching up.”

 

Dean snorted but he did continue, knowing that Crowley _would_ catch up. “I liked it, okay? I really liked bottoming for Cas and I… I just…” He could feel himself getting flustered and he sighed.

 

“You don’t know if you can still like it.” Crowley finished for him, the grin completely gone and replaced with the familiar and neutral expression.

 

“Yeah. I really want to believe I can but at the same time… I know it won’t be the same.” Dean willed himself to keep going and the words slowly started coming easier. “I’m… I’m scared shitless.”

 

“Of what?”

 

Dean licked his lips, searching his brain for the right words. “Of going too far. Of messing things up when they are finally good.” He answered and even though those were valid reasons, he still couldn’t confess the main one.

 

Crowley leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and Dean knew he hadn’t fooled him at all with his reply. “Maybe you’re afraid of alienating Castiel? Maybe coming to hate him?” Crowley prompted gently. This was one of the few times the doctor seemed to be treading lightly during their sessions, Dean realized.

 

Dean swallowed around the seemingly ever-present lump in his throat and ignored the way his palms were starting to sweat. “What if it feels like it’s them doing it?” he whispered, almost afraid of Crowley’s response.

 

Because, really, more than anything, Dean was afraid of laying on his back, his legs wrapped around Cas as the other man drove inside him and looking up to suddenly see one of his tortures looming over him instead of the man he loved. He thought, if it came to that, he would never be able to touch Cas again or let Cas touch him and he didn’t think he could live like that. Without Cas. He didn’t want to go back to that. So if he had to choose between real sex and alienation and what they had now, it wasn’t really a contest.

 

“Dean, I can’t promise you that if you do have sex with Castiel and you are in that position you absolutely won’t freak out. Chances are, you’re gonna freak out plenty and that’s okay.” Crowley shrugged and some of his unshakable confidence was starting to rub off on Dean. “You can try and you can freak out and we can work on it until you feel comfortable to try again if you want to or you can just shelf it.”

 

“I don’t want to shelf it.” Dean said quickly. No matter how scared he was, he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like and he knew he wanted to try it again. “But how do you know we will still be able to work on it?” He challenged because even though he trusted Crowley, he still needed some reassurance on this particular matter.

 

“Dean, I’ve… I’ve seen levels of psychosis you can’t possibly imagine and what I have learnt is that nothing is permanent. I have learnt that you can work on it and maybe things won’t go back to being perfect but they won’t stay bad.” Crowley sighed, turning even more serious if that were possible. “I know you want me to tell you that you won’t freak out or if you do freak out then I’ll magically fix it but I can’t. What I can do though is help you work up to doing it and help you through it if you need me to.”

 

“Help me through it?” Dean narrowed his eyes because really, he did not want to imagine Crowley helping him through anything sexual.

 

“Not like that!” Crowley riled back, a little offended that Dean had insulted his professionalism. “I meant that if you find a wall, then we can talk about it and help you move past it.”

 

Dean chuckled briefly and it lessened the tension the felt. “Okay, okay. How can I work up to it then?”

 

“Obviously you talk with Castiel about it first and then, just like with sleeping and touching, you give yourself time to slowly get used to the idea again. You slow down when you need to and you push forward when you feel confident enough.” Crowley said as if it was a no-brainer.

 

Dean sobered up, realizing this was getting more real by the minute. “Do you really think I could do that again, bottoming for someone—for Castiel and not going back?”

 

Crowley took a moment to think about it and that was how Dean knew the doctor’s answer would be utterly honest and serious. “I think I’ve seen you come a long way since you first walked in here and I think you have a long way still.”

 

Dean sighed, marginally more relaxed but nonetheless anxious of where he and Cas were headed. Having Crowley’s support obviously fueled him on but he couldn’t shake the feeling of going back to that place, those months and abruptly losing everything he had worked for. Because more than anything, he didn’t want to lose Cas.

 

******

 

It was a couple of days later when Dean finally gathered enough courage to talk to Cas about it. They were siting in Cas’s living room, watching reruns of some TV show Dean wasn’t paying any attention to. Their fingers were interlocked and laying on Dean’s thigh, effectively keeping his leg from bouncing. Dean had been acting weird ever since he got back from work and he knew there was no way Cas had missed it. Cas preferred to give him time though, letting Dean talk it out at his own pace.

 

Dean thought back on the direct approach he had taken with Crowley and nodded unconsciously to himself. “What do you think about sex?” He asked quickly, before he could chicken out.

Cas took the remote and turned the tv on mute giving Dean his full attention. “I like sex. I think it is likeable.” He replied courtly but he wasn’t fooling Dean. Cas probably knew where this was heading but he also preferred to make Dean come out with it. Dean would never admit it probably but he really preferred that as well.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and Cas squeezed his fingers. “I mean, have you thought about having it. With me. Like, now.”

 

“Uhm… we had sex yesterday?” And Cas sounded genuinely perplexed now which made Dean turn around on the sofa so he had one of his legs folded underneath him and was facing Cas.

 

And though yesterday had been great, Dean wasn’t really referring to that. “That was… I don’t mean handjobs. I mean real sex.” He himself disagreed with the term ‘real sex’ but he wasn’t sure he could go full on graphic descriptions at the moment; not when his heart was pounding in his chest and he had to concentrate to keep his breathing normal.

 

Realization suddenly dawned on Castiel and he squirmed a little in his seat but remained completely calm otherwise. Sometimes, Dean wondered how he could do that, keep his cool under almost any circumstance and Cas’s ability had perplexed Dean ever since high school but he was grateful for it now. After all, it would be wise for at least one of them to keep his shit together.

 

“I…” Cas pursed his lips, thoughtful. “I like that as well.” He nodded, giving Dean a straight answer.

 

Dean swallowed, trying very hard not to start fidgeting or jump off the couch. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Dean didn’t go into specifics, wanting—needing—to leave Cas with room to say no.

 

Cas didn’t say anything else, settling for gazing at the mute show on television and Dean pulled his hand away slowly. Cas didn’t have any sort of reaction so Dean tried to relax back into the couch with no real success. He could feel himself getting riled up; anxious and restless. Dean started feeling cold and absently scratched at his palms because even though he had tried hard to kick the habit, it was still there. The longer Cas stayed quiet, the more Dean regretted breaching this subject in the first place. Maybe Cas liked it but didn’t want to have it with him, he thought, even though he knew how ridiculous it objectively sounded outside of his head.

 

“I don’t want—”

 

“No, it’s okay, I get it.” Dean said hurriedly. He didn’t know why but he convinced if he heard Cas’s rejection out loud it would feel worse.

 

“What?” Cas turned towards him, his expression puzzled.

 

“I mean, it’s okay that you don’t want to. I guess… maybe I wouldn’t want to if I were you. You don’t have to.” Dean mumbled quickly, acutely aware of Cas’s eyes on him. He had briefly considered Cas saying no but he hadn’t actually thought on it. He didn’t think it would happen because Cas had never said no before and he was always receptive of Dean’s advancements. But then again, everyone had a breaking point.

 

“Dean, Dean, no.” Cas took both of Dean’ hands in his, keeping Dean from reopening old wounds in his palms. When Dean finally gathered the nerve to look up at Cas, the other man looked stricken, and more than a little hurt. “I wouldn’t… I was just surprised.” He said softly. “I was going to say that I don’t want you to do this because you feel like you have to.”

 

It took a couple of moments for Dean’s brain to catch up to that but once it did, Dean realized this course of events seemed a lot more plausible than the one in his head. He briefly wondered if he would ever be confident enough to turn away from his head’s twistedness but he quickly brushed the thought away. He wanted to stop living his life based on what-ifs.

 

So Dean sighed, relieved and looked up to meet Cas’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He muttered. “I… my paranoia is just a little hard to shake sometimes.”

 

Cas smiled faintly and shifted closer to Dean on the couch. “Regardless of what I want, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’m perfectly okay, really, perfectly fine and absolutely satisfied with the things that we do together as it is.”

 

Dean had to chuckle at that because he really didn’t get to see Cas rambling too often and he thought it was more than a little adorable. “You’re so cute when you get flustered.” He allowed himself to grin a little wickedly as he watched Cas blush.

 

“Shut up.” Cas snipped but he didn’t so much as try to turn away from Dean.

 

“I don’t feel pressured.” Dean sobered. “I think I’d like to try again. I loved what we did together before and I’d like to try again. If you want of course.”

 

However, even though Cas seemed receptive of the idea, he was still a little apprehensive. “I really… if things… if it’s bad, I don’t want you to—”

 

“I’m not gonna hate you. And, well, I talked to Crowley about it and he said we can work up to it so I really think it will be alright.” Dean spoke with confidence even if he himself was shaken up by the idea; he knew Cas needed Dean to be sure right now so he could be the one to doubt.

 

Cas fixed his gaze on Dean’s collar and Dean recognized his expression as thoughtful consideration so he didn’t interrupt him. He knew that just like himself, Cas needed to come to terms with things on his own time and Dean should give him the courtesy of that.

 

“You can think about it if you want to.” Dean suggested, keeping his voice soft.

 

Cas shook his head and he moved one of his hands to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him forward. Dean went willingly and breathed out through his nose when Cas kissed him, letting his eyes drift shut and his hands move to clutch at Cas’s shirt. Cas’s lips were chapped and his stubble rough against Dean’s cheeks but they served as a constant reminder to Dean that the person kissing him, the person touching him and urging him forward was Cas.

 

“I don’t need to think about it.” Cas breathed against Dean’s lips, their foreheads resting against each other and Dean didn’t even bother opening his eyes.

Cas nosed his way to Dean’s ear, lips brushing Dean’s lobe. “Sometimes, I want you so much it hurts.” He rasped and Dean couldn’t help the shudder that went through him at the sound of Cas’s voice.

 

Cas felt it and pulled Dean closer to him, molding their bodies together and Dean could feel how warm he was despite the layers of clothing between them. Cas’s hand cupped Dean’s jaw and brought him forward so that their lips were touching, slow and lazy like they had all day. Cas seemed to be in no rush as he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair and angled his head to the side, playing with different angles that just made everything deeper and more intense.

 

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed or been kissed by someone like this; like it wasn’t a means to an end. Cas’s hands traveled over is body, touching and soothing but not demanding and Dean returned the favor, languidly running his fingers over Cas’s torso, stopping to wrap them around his shoulder and bring him closer. Cas snaked his hands over Dean’s back, rubbing and giving him comfort Dean hadn’t even realized he needed until he melted into the touch. Yeah, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this but he was prepared to take a wild guess and say it was with Cas, too many years ago.

 

Dean couldn’t say for sure how long they kept that up, the leisurely kissing but when Cas pulled back, his lips were red and his cheeks flushed but he was smiling. His eyes had a familiar but contained glimmer to them and Cas’s dazed look, his carefully restrained excitement snapped something in Dean. His entire body jumped and his hands started pulling at Cas’s shirt, urging him on as Dean leaned backwards to lie flat on the cushions.

 

Cas went willingly, spreading out over Dean, his solid body a reassuring weight. “Yeah?” he rasped, tongue darting out over his swollen and bitten lips and for a moment, Dean was too distracted by that to make his brain function properly in order to answer the question.

 

Castiel leaned forward and rubbed his nose against Dean’s stubble though and that definitely got his attention. “Yeah, yeah, just… yeah.” Dean mumbled hurriedly because Cas was pressing him harder onto the sofa and for some strange reason, Dean didn’t want him to stop.

 

Not too long ago, this position, being wedged between the sofa and Castiel’s body would feel restricting. It would make Dean’s chest grow heavy and his heart speed up in alarm as he tried to stave off the inevitable panic that would soon overtake him. Now, though, now this position made Dean feel safe and protected. He felt nestled and cherished and he wrapped his arms around Cas’s back to keep him close.

 

Cas smiled down at him, satisfied and a little proud, maybe and it made Dean flush as he tried to turn away from Cas’s unnerving gaze. Cas’s fingers slipped underneath his chin though, forcing Dean to keep his eyes on him. Cas rolled his hips against Dean and Dean gasped as he felt the hard line of Cas’s cock against his own. Cas did it again and his lips parted but he was still making a conscious effort to keep his eyes open, to keep himself in check and really, Dean wasn’t having any of that.

 

Dean abruptly surged forward, capturing Cas’s lips, hand grabbing a fistful of the jet-black hair and pulling, making Cas’s hips buck and loose their rhythm. He bit Cas’s bottom lip while tugging at his hair, not quite softly and Cas gasped into their kiss, his hips grinding more forcefully against Dean’s.

 

Dean fit his free hand between them, his fingers going to Cas’s erection and rubbing urgently over his jeans. Cas gasped again, this time moving back to rest his forehead against Dean’s chest, his breath coming faster. “Dean.”, he whispered and his voice came out raw and used and it turned Dean on even more to know that he managed to do that to him.

 

“Come on, Cas.” Dean whispered, surprised to find that his own voice was much the same. Cas moaned and really, that was when he gave up on his religiously maintained control and started thrusting into Dean’s fist, alternating between groaning and gasping, depending on how Dean twisted his wrist.

 

Dean squeezed his hand and Cas’s entire body stilled for a minute before he suddenly jumped away, dragging himself out of Dean’s hands. Dean didn’t have time to worry about it because Cas merely took off his shirt and started unbuckling his jeans before moving to the same to Dean. He quickly gave up in frustration and stood up so he could fully remove both their jeans.

 

As soon as Cas had ridded him of his clothes, Dean pulled him flush on top of him and wrapped his legs around Cas’s waist, hissing as their erections came together, with nothing but skin to feel. Dean couldn’t resist as he looked between their stomachs to their hips thrusting and their cocks dragging against each other in delicious friction and he moaned at the sight of their cockheads, glimmering with precome and turning red.

 

Cas ducked his head and bit one of Dean’s nipples, sucking and licking at the hard nub until Dean could only squirm and his hands tugged at Cas’s hair to urge him on. He arched his back, pushing into Cas’s mouth and racked his fingers over Cas’s sweat slicked back, wanting to leave his marks there.

 

Dean felt Cas’s hand around his knee, squeezing once before slowly moving upwards, stroking over his hip and coming to rest on his ass. He rubbed circles over Dean’s cheek before grabbing a handful and squeezing gently, allowing some of the cold air to sweep into his crack and over his hole. Dean shuddered at the foreign sensation and he instinctively tensed as he realized how vulnerable he was.

 

Cas sensed it and moved away from Dean’s nipple only to kiss his way to Dean’s ear, pressing his nose against Dean’s cheek. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispered and Dean shuddered again, this time at the sheer honesty in Castiel’s voice.

 

Dean nodded in response but he opened his eyes because he had to remind himself that this was Cas and Cas had never hurt him before and so he shouldn’t worry. He repeated this over and over but really, it was when Cas looked up at him and smiled that he finally relaxed enough and, with a deep breath, let his knees fall open at his sides.

 

Cas’s smile got wider at that and he kept grinding his hips, rubbing his dick over Dean’s and it managed to distract him from the hand resting on his ass. “Mmm, there you go.” Cas mumbled, tongue flicking out to lick over the shell of Dean’s ear. “You’re doing so well.” He whispered and Dean didn’t even tense as Cas started moving his hand in circles again, rubbing slowly but confidently, inching a little closer to his crack every time.

 

Maybe it was the praise or maybe it was the knowledge that Dean wasn’t panicking or the satisfaction that he might be getting back something that was stolen from him, Dean wasn’t sure but he found himself growing harder, his doubts dissipating and he gathered the courage to lean into Cas’s touch, move his body in accordance to Cas’s hand.

 

Cas gave him a few more minutes before shifting his hand from Dean’s ass to his balls and rolling them in his palm. Dean whimpered because he hadn’t realized how close he was and he dug his nails into Cas’s back. “Oh, fucccck.” He hissed, his hips unconsciously bucking.

 

“I got you, it’s okay.” Cas mumbled before leaning in to brush his lips over Dean’s and his hand trailed lower, settling on Dean’s perineum for a moment to press and really, that wasn’t helping at all with Dean’s situation because he wanted this to last. He needed for this to feel good.

 

Dean snaked one of his hands between them again and wrapped his fist around both of their cocks this time, using his fingers to spread precome down their shafts before he started stroking them together.

 

Cas gasped and Dean realized he must have been pretty close himself but he was still, extremely coordinated as he pressed his lips firmly against Dean’s and slowly inched his fingers lower, closer to Dean’s hole. He was purposefully giving Dean time to say ‘no’ or to move away and Dean would be lying if he said part of him didn’t want to but another part, a more insistent part perhaps was urging him on, keeping him from moving away from the alien touch.

 

When Dean’s hand around their cocks didn’t still and his body didn’t turn rigid, Cas dragged his fingers even lower, low enough to brush against Dean’s pucker but instead of pressing forward like Dean expected him to, he continued up his crack and then down again.

 

Dean’s breath hitched and he gripped Cas’s shoulder with his free hand, needing something to hold on to as Cas’s fingertips finally applied pressure. It wasn’t enough to breach the tight ring of muscle but Dean still found himself squirming, not sure if he wanted to press down or move away. He could feel pleasure ghosting around the edges of what he was feeling but it wasn’t enough to suppress the paranoia and he had to open his eyes again, he had to see to convince himself and just for a second, one second as he opened them, he wasn’t sure when he was. He wasn’t sure who was on top of him and he wasn’t sure who was touching him.

 

Then, Dean shook his head and everything crept back into place and he saw Cas looming over him, his expression packed with worry. Dean shook his head and leaned up to kiss Cas again, even though his breath was trembling. He didn’t want to stop; it wouldn’t be fair and they had gotten so close already so he rolled his hips, pushing down onto Cas’s fingers and once he was sure it was Cas again, it wasn’t so bad.

 

“That’s it, baby, I’m here, it’s just me.” Cas rasped, breathless, like he was barely holding it together and he eyes were glimmering when he moved back to look at Dean.

 

Dean realized that was all he needed to get back into it and it surprised him but he went with it, jerking them off faster, gasping as he felt himself getting closer. Cas’s hand started moving upwards, pressing harder as it run over Dean’s stomach and the his chest, until it cupped his jaw, thumb rubbing circles into Dean’s temple. Dean looked up at Cas, his lips parted and a flush spreading down his neck, over his chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. He took hold of Cas’s hand and brought it to his mouth, slipping his index finger between his lips to wet it. Cas was transfixed on Dean’s lips, his eyes wide open and his breathing growing heavier.

 

He let Dean swirl his tongue around his finger a couple of time before groaning and pulling his finger away. He slowly brought it back to Dean’s hole, going back to rubbing circles and it wasn’t nearly slick enough but it felt better somehow, spit cooling over heated skin, turning Dean’s breathing unsteady.

 

“Everything okay?” Cas nosed against his jaw, waiting for Dean’s nod before stopping to rest his finger exactly over Dean’s opening. “I’m going to press harder now, alright?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Dean muttered breathlessly, breath hitching once he felt Cas’s insistent pressure. “You can go a little harder.” He whispered against Cas’s temple, not quite confident but still certain.

 

“Okay.” Cas’s lips brushed over Dean’s collarbone as he spoke, slightly tingly and Dean tightened his fist instinctively. Cas hissed in response but he pressed his index finger harder against Dean’s hole and Dean whimpered once it finally slipped inside him. It wasn’t so much the sensation as the knowledge that he had done it, that they had made it this far and he still hadn’t freaked out.

 

“Oh, that’s… that’s good.” He said, before Cas could hesitate and he shifted his ass, baring down on Cas’s finger. It burned and they hadn’t used any lube but… it wasn’t like Dean thought it would be. It didn’t make him feel used and Dean realized he had forgotten. He had forgotten what it was like to be touched there without the intent to cause pain or to scrub raw in a frenzy to get clean. He had forgotten that it could also bring pleasure and the realization was enough to tip him over the edge.

 

He could feel his entire body growing tense, the familiar heat settling low in his stomach and he tightened his fist more, chasing relief. When it finally came, Dean felt like it had been ripped out of him. Cas slammed his lips over his, swallowing his gasps and Dean bit down on Cas’s lip, hips bucking helplessly as he came, his entire body shuddering through it.

 

Dean was dimly aware of Cas taking his hand away, his finger slowly slipping out of Dean, and moving it to his own cock before he felt warm drops of cum landing on his stomach a few seconds later and then Cas collapsed on top of him.

 

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Cas soothed him, hands running down Dean’s sides and it was only then Dean realized he was shaking, goosebumps breaking all over his skin and was suddenly feeling very cold. “I got you, come on.” Cas whispered and managed to turn them onto their sides so Dean’s back was against the sofa and his head pillowed on Cas’s arm. “You’re okay.” He said again and placed a kiss on Dean’s forehead as he wrapped his arms around him.

 

Dean gripped at Cas’s waist, desperate for something to keep him in this place. He was always anxious during this part but he found he was even more agitated this time. He had a feeling, if he let himself slip back now, the place he’d go in his head wouldn’t be terribly pleasant.

 

Thankfully, Cas realized how shaken Dean was and he didn’t let go, rubbing his back instead until the tremors finally subsided and Dean’s nails weren’t digging too harshly into his sides.

 

“Thank you.” Dean scraped, his voice feeling unused or maybe overused, he wasn’t sure.

 

Cas kissed Dean’s sweaty hair, resting his cheek against Dean’s forehead for a minute. “Anything.” Dean could hear the smile in Cas’s voice and with a sigh, he decided to borrow further into Cas’s embrace, uncaring of the thin sheen of sweat covering both their bodies.

 

It wasn’t long, though, before Dean started feeling the familiar itch all over his body, made only more intense by the crusted jizz on his stomach. He ignored it for as long as he could until he started shivering again, until his skin felt suffocating, because he was too comfortable to move.

 

Dean didn’t know how but Cas figured it out and he slowly untangled himself from Dean before standing up. Dean wouldn’t admit it but he felt more than a little grateful and the smothering sensation all over him lessened, somewhat, even if the shivering to worse.

 

“Come on.” Cas extended his arm towards Dean and smiled encouragingly. The tv was still flashing behind him, the light hitting his body at awkward angles but Dean still thought he was beautiful. It was a strange thought to have about a man, he figured but he had long ago come to terms with his feelings towards Castiel—which was probably the only reason he managed to do this tonight. It was also the only reason he didn’t hesitate before taking hold of Cas’s hand and letting the other man lead him towards the master bathroom.

 

Cas turned on the hot water and checked the temperature before gesturing for Dean to walk in. Dean was about to ask for Cas to join him but it turned out he didn’t have to because Cas got in right behind him.

 

It was when the water started falling against his back, slushing onto his front that reality finally sunk in and Dean really didn’t want it to but by the time Cas closed the

distance between them and took Dean into his arms, it was a little too late.

 

Dean had almost forgotten what it felt like, the overpowering feeling of shame that seemed to seep into every pore of his skin and the disgusting stream of filth that it forced out in the process. Dean went frigid all over, hiding his face into Cas’s shoulder even though he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve someone like Cas and he knew he was selfish and greedy but he still couldn’t get enough of him.

 

The worst part about this was that Dean knew it was illogical and yet he couldn’t help squirming as he felt Cas touching him, he couldn’t help tensing because he knew he was filthy and he wasn’t good enough. How could Cas want someone like him; so used up and torn and _oh god_ —Dean gasped as he realized that Cas would feel them, he would feel the scars inside him when he fingered him.

 

And it was horrible of him to think like that. To think that Cas wouldn’t want him or turn him away or tell him he was in fact dirty because Cas would _never_ do that. Cas wasn’t that kind of person. He was loving and kind and patient and Dean’s twisted mind was trying desperately to turn him into a monster and more than anything, that wasn’t fair to Cas. Cas didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

 

“You need to stop thinking now.” Cas mumbled into Dean’s ear as his hands rubbed over Dean’s back.

 

And Dean knew Cas was right but it was easer said than done. Because Dean’s mind was running in circles and it scared him for a minute, this pointed inability to stop it. It felt like being trapped in the same room as with his captors and unable to escape.

 

Dean was vaguely aware of Cas talking again. He couldn’t make out what he was saying but he could feel the rumble of his words against his chest and the constant murmuring and it felt comforting. It let him know he wasn’t alone. It dragged him slowly back into himself.

 

“I’m sorry.” He rasped because he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to admit to Cas that sometimes, like now, he was too afraid of himself to stay alone and he was grateful that Cas had stayed with him.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“No it’s not. It shouldn’t be like this.”

 

Cas was about to argue but he sighed instead, surprising Dean. “No, it shouldn’t. But it is.” He said solemnly, moving back so he could look at Dean. “And I’m not gonna let you go through it on your own.” His tone didn’t leave any room for arguing and Dean smiled, hands reaching up to cup Cas’s face and drag him close again so he could kiss him.

 

Sometimes, his mind scared him and sometimes, himself scared him and sometimes, he couldn’t escape the self-deprecating loop of thinking that consumed him but… but Cas was still here. He still kissed Dean even though Dean was trembling, his entire body shouting at him to get away because he didn’t deserve Cas but Dean held on to him. Maybe, Dean thought, that said something about himself and how far he and Cas had come together.

 

“Thank you.” Dean said once they pulled away. “For… sometimes I think I don’t deserve to have you touch me. But you’re still here and… you… thank you.”

 

Castiel seemed stricken for a moment, probably not expecting Dean so say anything about what was happening in his head. Dean couldn’t blame him; he preferred not to talk when they showered together since he felt too exposed. However, he thought Cas needed to hear some things as well and Dean wanted to say them.

 

“I… you have no idea how much I love you.” He whispered, burying his head into Cas’s shoulder because his voice sounded rough even to his own ears.

 

“I love you, too.” Cas murmured into Dean’s hair, his hand rubbing circles onto Dean’s back. “There is nothing shameful or dirty about this—about what we do together. It’s just us and no one else.” Dean couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through him at that even though he knew it was true. Cas’s hands stopped, left his back and even though Dean couldn’t see, he could tell it moved to grab the sponge and the shower gel from behind him. “Where?” Cas asked him without an ounce of judgment.  


“Everywhere.” Dean felt as though that single word had been ripped out of him. “But it’s not important right now.” He finished, surprising both of them.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Really not important.” Dean smiled, leaning in to brush their lips together and surprisingly, after a few moments, the inherent sense of filthiness that made him want to scrub his skin raw had turned to a dull ache. It was still there and it would probably never go away but, as he said, it wasn’t important for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am a little nervous about this chapter so really hope you like it and make sure to comment :)


	22. Family Matters

Castiel wasn’t too fond of cafeteria food but at times, when he had done too many back-to-back surgeries and the time between shifts just wasn’t enough to run home and order something, he made an exception. The tuna sandwich wasn’t too bad today, he supposed, as he shoved some of it in his mouth. He could even go as far as to say it was good but that might have been his good mood talking, he wasn’t sure. In any case, things between him and Dean were getting marginally better, better than they had been ever since they got back together and Cas liked to enjoy good things.

 

He was just thinking about that, undoubtedly smiling around a mouthful of cafeteria tuna, when his brother, Gabriel took a seat across from him. “Castiel!” Gabriel looked conspicuously happy. “How is my favorite brother?”

 

“Is there something wrong?” Cas asked because usually, every conversation that started with Gabriel calling him his favorite brother was bound to end someplace Cas was happy never to go to in his life.

 

Gabriel chuckled and reached across the table to pat Castiel’s arm. “Hehehe, you’re funny, you know that?” he grinned and Cas had to admit he looked very energetic despite his current course of treatment. “I came bearing good news.”

 

“Really?”

 

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows and presumed to dig out a folder from a bag he had put on the empty chair beside him. Castiel narrowed his eyes thoughtfully but put down his sandwich and took hold of the folder. He could tell there were some sort films inside and he eagerly pulled them out, guessing this had something to do with Gabriel’s doctor’s appointment.

 

“You already went? I thought it was in the afternoon.” Cas complained because he had wanted to go with Gabriel, just to make sure the doctor wasn’t full of it.

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes impatiently. “Will you just check them?”

 

“Fine, fine, fine.” Castiel mumbled even though he was barely keeping himself from ripping them out of the folder. Once he did take them out and put them up against the light while holding his breath the entire time, he realized they were MRI scans of Gabriel’s stomach and digestive system, dated to last week. They were all clean of mets.

 

“Gabriel this is…” Cas looked down from the scans and saw his brother smirking at him, full of self-entitlement with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why did you wait to tell me?” he put down the scans and stood up to wrap his arms around Gabriel because even though he was acting cool about it, there was nothing cool whatsoever about what he felt and went through and they both knew so.

 

His brother hugged him back tightly before they finally separated and Cas went back to his seat. “I just found out five minutes ago. I had rescheduled. I didn’t want you to be there in case it was bad news.”

 

“Yeah well, screw you. I have a lot of question which I could have asked to the doctor but now you’ve deprived me—”

 

“Oh, shut it, you big drama queen. You found out now _and_ there is actually something else I came here to tell you.” And Gabriel started looking sneaky at that, which was absolutely, never, ever a good sign.

 

Castiel already winced internally without even having heard what this was about. “Just hit me with it.”

 

“I like to drag it out. Make you suffer.” _Truer words have never been spoken_ , Castiel thought. “Michael, our dearly beloved brother, is having another dinner.” He smirked wickedly, like that was any sort of good news.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel hissed. He was happy and he and Michael were getting along better but that had nothing on making him want to willingly spend an evening at the family table. “I was… just, why do you have to do this to me?”

 

“Jesus, you’re being very drama-like today.” Gabriel mumbled, his hand reaching out to steal some of Cas’s potato chips. Cas batted his hand away, which made Gabriel snort indignantly. “Fine. Michael said he wants to meet Dean.”

 

And just when Cas thought dinner with his brothers couldn’t get worse, there came _that_. “Are you… I don’t… why?”

 

Gabriel shrugged and this time, when he reached out to grab Cas’s potato chips, Cas didn’t stop him. “Fuck if I know. He mentioned something about ‘talking’ with him.”

 

The way Gabriel pronounced ‘talking’ made Castiel shift in his seat. His brothers had never had the big old intimidation talk with anyone Cas had dated, not that he’d bothered to bring them home but still. He did not aspire to forcing Dean to go through that talk, much less in the hands of Michael, who could be more than ruthless when he wanted to.

 

“No. Absolutely not. I cannot subject him to that.”

 

“He is a SWAT captain. I am sure he’ll be able to hold his own against Michael and Lucifer.” Gabriel did not sound too sympathetic.

 

“How did Lucifer get into this? I thought it was Michael’s dinner.” One brother was enough. He did not need—“Whoa, hold on! Will Raphael be there, too?”

 

“Nah, Michael said something about Raphael being preoccupied with something or the other. I don’t know.”

 

At least it wouldn’t be three bothers, which was a comforting thought. “You’re a lousy messenger, you know that?”

 

Gabriel snorted and threw a potato chip at Castiel because this was the kind of conversation they tended to have as grown men. “Fuck you. Just for that I won’t tell you about Lucifer.”

 

“I know you’re dying to spill. It’s in your blood.” It was true; after all, Gabriel was incapable of keeping anything remotely close to a secret. Cas had figured that out the hard way.

 

Sure enough, Gabriel managed to glare at him and keep it to himself for about three minutes. “Michael and Lucifer are back to being besties now so they decided to scare off your future husband together.”

 

Castiel did not even attempt to counter the husband part. “Dean and I are on very shaky ground at the moment. It’s a make it or break it kind of thing and I don’t think dinner with the lot of you is gonna help make it.”

 

But clearly that was the wrong thing to say because his brother put his elbows on the table and leaned closer, his eyes sparkling for Cas to feed his curiosity. “Really? What happened?”

 

“Nothing.” Cas was quick to say.  


“Seriously, Cas.” And for Gabriel to call him ‘Cas’ it meant that he really wanted to know.

 

“Nothing… it’s just… you know I can’t tell you,” Cas clarified. Gabriel had seen enough of them to know something had happened to Dean in they years they’d been apart but no one had said anything about it. “But I think… I think this is the finishing line, you know? Does that make sense? Like, we’re finally getting there.”

 

Unexpectedly, Gabriel smiled and reached out to pat Cas’s forearm. “That’s good, little brother. You two deserve it more than anyone else I know.” Then his smile turned into he familiar smirk again. “But you still have to come.”

 

Castiel sighed but he thought he might as well accept it now. It was bound to come at some point and it is better to be done with it sooner rather than later. “Fine. Okay. But I won’t like it.”

 

“As if you ever do.” Gabriel rolled his eyes, now eyeing Cas’s sandwich after he’d finished with his chips.

 

“I’ll have you…” Cas trailed off as he felt his pager vibrate at his side. He glanced at it and groaned at the 911 call, which always seemed to come at the most unfortunate of times. Like, it couldn’t have been five minutes earlier when Gabriel was forcing him to dinner.

 

Nonetheless, Cas stood up and looked at Gabriel apologetically, knowing how annoying it was to be in his position.

 

“Go, go, it’s fine. I’ll see you later.” Gabriel waved him off, now practically salivating at Cas’s tuna.

 

Cas chuckled and stood up to run to the ER but stopped for minute to place a kiss on top of Gabriel’s head. “I’m really happy for you.”

 

******

 

Dean, when Cas broke the news to him, was surprisingly calm, excited even, at the prospect of having dinner with Castiel’s family. Cas really was surprised by that but he supposed, maybe he wasn’t the only one in a good mood today.

 

“What should I wear?” Dean looked up from his dinner to ask, the first sign of nervousness he’d displayed for the upcoming dinner—or more like circle of hell, if Cas knew anything at all about his brothers.

 

“Do you have any jeans that aren’t greased or torn?” Cas snipped after swallowing a mouthful of spicy noodles.

 

“Fuck you!” Cas could see was tempted to throw some chicken at him. Maybe he should wonder why all of his conversations tended to end with food bring thrown his way but he settled for merely grinning. “You’ll see. I’ll impress your brothers.” And the way Dean said it, it sounded like a promise.

 

“You don’t have to impress my brothers.” Cas assured him, completely serious.

 

“I’m still gonna do it.” Dean quipped, just as serious. “Now, are you done? Because I really think we should go to bed.”

 

“Really? What do you have in mind?” Cas asked, but he already put down his chopsticks so Dean had his full attention.

 

Dean stood up, his own chopsticks falling into his takeout carton. He walked around the table and stopped right next to Cas before offering him his hand. Cas took it and stood up as well and they were close enough that he could feel Dean breath against his lips when he spoke.

 

“I think it’s my turn to take care of you.” And that sounded like a promise, too.

 

******

 

“Hey, do you think Sam could come?” Dean asked him the next day, as they were watching TV in Cas’s living room.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Cas replied immediately, because he knew how Sam must have been holding up. “As long as he’s prepared.” He muttered on second thought.

 

Dean chuckled, his hand squeezing Cas’s thigh. “It’ll be fine.” He said confidently.

 

Cas took a moment to consider how Dean could be this sure about having dinner with Cas’s brothers but he decided it was better than the alternative. At least Michael and Lucifer wouldn’t eat Dean up.

 

*******

 

As it turned out, Dean did own a pair of a pain of black jeans that were neither torn nor greased but did hang dangerously well on his hips. He’d paired them with a dark grey shirt and when he came by Cas’s house to pick him up, he was flushed and fidgety.

 

“Why are you so anxious about this dinner?” Cas asked him once they were inside the car and heading to Michael’s house.

 

“He wants to have your brothers’ blessings.” Sammy quipped from the back seat, eliciting an eye roll from Dean.

 

“It’s just important to me.” Dean said dryly, his eyes glued on the road ahead of them.

 

“You know I don’t care what they think.”

 

“I do.” Dean said solemnly.

 

When Michael opened the door to let them inside, he was smiling predatorily and wearing a personally tailored grey suit, which Cas wouldn’t be surprised to know he had bought especially for this occasion. And by this occasion meaning, intimidating Dean Winchester.

 

“Dean, it’s been so long.” Michael offered his hand to Dean and Cas rolled his eyes at his brother’s tone and seemingly permanent smirk.

 

Dean didn’t back down though; he took a step closer to Michael and shook his hand, grinning proudly. “It’s great to see you Michael. This is my brother, Sam.” He gestured to Sammy who was looking from Michael to Cas and back to Michael, no doubt trying to decipher Michael’s behavior. Cas sympathized although he personally had given up on that a long time ago.

 

“Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you in the corporate world.” Michael leered as he moved to shake Sam’s hand.

 

“Really? I’ve heard a lot about you as well.” And Sam sounded a little like he admired Michael, which made Cas wince internally; his brother’s ego was plenty inflated as it was. He did not need Sam looking up at him—figuratively of course—to feed his pride.

 

“That’s wonderful—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, we get it.” Cas said quickly. “Can we move to the dining room?”

 

Michael turned to him, still smiling but Cas could tell it wasn’t really quite mean. It was more playful and sneaky and it served to bring back memories from Cas’s childhood. The past years after their father had died hadn’t been erased just because Michael had given him a house-warming gift and had a change of heart but at times like these, Cas remembered what his brother was really like.

 

“Of course. We wouldn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you already are.” Michael snipped with an arched eyebrow and led them to the dining room.

 

Michael had gone all out again with a grey table cloth and black plates, paired with sterling silverware. Cas at least had to give him points for effort because he hardly ever brought that particular china out anymore. His brother led Sam to sit next to Gabriel and Cas and Dean across from them while he sat at the head of the table with Lucifer at the opposite end.

 

However, once Sam saw Lucifer he froze on his feet like a deer in the headlights. “Mr. Milton.” He said, eyes wide and mouth barely kept shut.

 

“Mr. Winchester.” Lucifer smiled knowingly, getting up so he could shake Sammy’s hand. “Surprised to see me?” he teased at Sammy’s awestruck expression.

 

“That’s… yeah, that’s an understatement.” Sammy chuckled nervously. Cas risked a glance at Dean who was observing the exchange through narrowed eyes. “What are you… oh.” Realization suddenly dawned on Sam. “You’re Lucifer, Cas’s brother.”

 

“Yes.” Lucifer nodded with a smile and it was a sincere one, which just surprised Cas even more. “Milton was our mother’s name.” he explained and Sammy started looking a little less confused as he took his seat beside Gabriel. “And Dean. It’s been too long.” He turned to Dean to shake his hand as well.

 

“Yes.” Dean nodded before pulling out his chair to sit down. “So, you two know each other?” he was trying to keep it casual but Cas could hear how curious he really was.

 

Sammy blushed briefly and he looked down to avoid Dean’s eyes. Cas glanced at Dean and saw his eyes sparkle in interest.

 

“When I came back to Chicago, I sought out some professional advice and Sam’s firm was the best and he was rumored to be the best of the best in what I needed. So, yes, we do know each other. I’m his client.” Lucifer looked particularly satisfied about that. Castiel was intrigued to know more since Lucifer didn’t do anything without having a specific reason but he decided to wait until later.

 

“I’m actually surprised to know you didn’t figure it out sooner.” Lucifer turned to Sam, smile reaching up to his ears. _This is getting very interesting,_ Cas thought.

 

Sam chuckled, cheeks blushing red. For such an intimidating guy, Sammy did really have kind of a baby face. “Well, now that I know I realize it should have been pretty obvious. I mean, how many Lucifers could there be in Chicago?”

 

Lucifer grinned and grabbed a bottle of water to pour Sammy a glass. It wasn’t that his brother had no manners but Cas was pretty sure this would mark the first time he had seen Lucifer offer someone a drink. Or, more accurately, offer someone he wasn’t having sex with, a drink. But he really shouldn’t be suspicious, right? _Yeah, sure._

Soon after, the servers his brother had hired rushed in and served the first course of dinner—and of course the dinner would have multiple courses because this was Michael we were talking about. So, naturally, that was when the trouble really started.

 

“Dean.” Michael started. “It’s been so many years. Tell us, what have you been up to?” and his tone was innocuous enough so Cas had that going for him, which was better than nothing.

 

Dean set down his fork and wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin, all proper and formal, before clearing his throat. “Well, um… I spent some time in the marines and now I’m here. That’s it really.” He chuckled nervously.

 

“Oh, yes indeed.” Michael said cheerfully. “I heard you got a purple heart and a… what was it, Lucifer?”

 

“A Legion of Merit.” Lucifer supplied helpfully.

 

Dean was blushing furiously and his leg was fidgeting next to Castiel’s under the table. Castiel knew about he medals but he also knew Dean despised talking about them so he never asked. He moved his hand on Dean’s thigh in an effort to steady him.

 

“Yes.” Dean nodded after a few moments. “How did you know?”

 

Michael shrugged casually. “Well. I have my sources.” He sipped some red whine from his tall glass. “I’m a defense contractor, Dean. How did you think I know?” his tone was light, like he could tell Dean was the worn kind of uncomfortable with this topic.  Thankfully, Cas could feel Dean’s nervousness subsiding once they’d moved on from the subject.

 

The rest of the course continued without much incident, other than Lucifer’s sassy remarks and Michael’s snorts. Cas was surprised to find that it was almost easy; sitting in the dinning room table his parents had sat in; where they had all laughed and smiled and then, after a few years, fought and growled at each other.

 

But today it wasn’t like that. There were no dramatic revelations or hateful fits. Cas could see Gabriel rolling his eyes at Michael and Michael slapping his shoulder in retaliation. He could see Sam smiling and laughing at the things Lucifer said to him and Lucifer sitting back in satisfaction that he had managed to do that. He could see Dean enjoying himself and he had no trouble imagining them doing this on a regular basis, which scared him a little.

 

And then of course, Lucifer happened. “Dean, tell us. What are your intentions towards Castiel?” he asked, completely serious for one of the very few times in his life.

 

Dean choked on the soda he had been drinking and ended up coughing into his napkin, trying to wipe away the soda that was coming out of his nose. “My intentions?” he asked weakly once he could breathe again.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I don’t… I don’t intend to get him pregnant if that’s what you mean.”

 

“Dean. Come on now.” Lucifer smirked, full of challenge and condensation and suddenly Cas had a flashback of why he had spent so long not talking to his brothers.

 

“Lucifer.” Castiel said dryly, his fork and knife clattering as he let them drop onto his plate.

 

And Lucifer was right there with him, not backing down in the slightest. “Castiel.”

 

“Anybody wants dessert?” Gabriel asked abruptly, no doubt trying to defuse the situation.

 

“That’s enough.” Castiel hissed. He felt Dean’s hand coming to cover his on the table. Lucifer’s eyes briefly jumped to it and then returned to Castiel but there was something different about them.

 

“No, Cas, I get it.” Dean said quietly, probably only for Castel to hear. “My intentions are to be here with him and for him.” He was talking to Lucifer but looking straight at Castiel. “My intentions are to help him when he needs me to and not leave him alone when he doesn’t.” Cas smiled, ducking his head because he would feel his face heating up. “My intentions are to love him, probably marry him some day but that shouldn’t be news to anyone.” For a second, Cas felt his entire body go cold and then hot in anticipation. Sure, they both knew that with the legalization of same sex marriage in Illinois they could legalize their partnership but so far it had been unspoken between them.

 

Dean squeezed his hand, probably sensing his surprise and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t seem to be in doubt rather than relief that he had finally said it.

 

“My intentions are to never leave him again.” He was dead serious as he said this, his voice having a grave tint but filled with conviction. Cas smiled, more than a little reassured after having heard that.

 

They way Dean spoke, his words sounded like promises… like vows.

 

Cas noticed Lucifer was struck speechless—rare phenomenon—and grinned. He couldn’t help thinking, _my boyfriend did that. He did that for me._ When Dean shifted his gaze to Lucifer, he was defiant. “My intentions are to sure as hell never let him attend this kind of dinners on his own again.” He mumbled.

 

It took Lucifer a couple of seconds but he laughed, his smirk replaced by something Cas could best describe as acceptance and then the others followed suit with him.

 

Cas wanted more than anything to kiss Dean right then and there but he restrained himself, respecting Dean’s wishes when it came to public displays. Cas wasn’t sure but he thought Dean’s aversion to them was because of his father and his disapproval of his and Cas’s relationship. In any case, it wasn’t important. Cas had all he could ask for and he was happy so he simply shifted closer to Dean’s side, their bodies touching from shoulder to knee.

 

Really, that was enough to hold his brothers off of Dean for the rest of the dinner but that only meant that Lucifer spent more time talking to Sam while Dean and Michael engaged in some sort of conversation about automatic weapons Cas couldn’t even aspire to following. Ergo, he found himself watching Lucifer interact with Sammy. Or really, Lucifer _flirt_ with and oblivious Sammy and that was absolutely not happening.

 

Gabriel saw him glaring at them, saw the scowl Cas was very aware of, on his face and tried to convey something with his eyes and eyebrows. Needless to say, Cas couldn’t understand any of it so he did what he thought was necessary.

 

“Hey, Lucifer, how about you help with dessert?” he asked, meaningfully enough that Lucifer knew Cas wasn’t backing down.

 

“Very well. Let’s go.” He stood unwillingly but he followed Cas out of the dining room.

 

They didn’t actually go to the kitchen rather than the living room, which was far away from the dining that they wouldn’t be heard. Cas didn’t want to risk it, though, so he still kept his voice at a low hiss. “What the hell are you doing?” he raised his finger and poked Lucifer in the chest.

 

“Aw.” Lucifer took a step back in retreat and started rubbing his chest with his palm. “Dean took it in stride, what do you want from me?”

 

“You know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about.”

 

Cas could see Lucifer struggle with himself and he was sure his brother could lie to him if he wanted to. Not only that but he could make so that Cas believed him. Only… well, Lucifer wasn’t and Cas took that as a sigh that he really wanted to come clean about it.

 

“Look, I don’t know what’s happening between the two of you but you can’t mess with him like that.” Cas said gently.

 

Lucifer looked down, chewing on his bottom lip much like a child who knew had done something wrong. “I know.” He sighed and he sounded… resigned. His brother—Lucifer—didn’t usually sound resigned. He was relentless and snarky and not at all a pushover. Cas thought back and realized the only other times he had witnessed this sort of behavior from Lucifer was when he first saw him again and later, at his house when he and Michael had brought him Mr. mixer.

 

“Oh, my god!” he let out suddenly, taking a step back as he figured it out. “You… you actually like him.” Maybe his tone was an itty bit accusatory but it wasn’t like he had a lot of precedent with Lucifer having serious relationships.

 

Lucifer was a hotshot in the corporate world. He was the CEO of a renowned company and he was infamous for the endless parade of men and women out of his bedroom. There were dozens of photos of him with different dates on the tabloids and as far back as Cas could remember, Lucifer was never the type to have a relationship.

 

Lucifer looked down, blushing even harder and that was all Cas needed to be sure. “Like… what… how?”

 

“I don’t know.” Lucifer said eventually, his foot drawing circles on the carpet. “I just… it happened and I wasn’t gonna do anything because he was getting married and even now, I wouldn’t do anything but…” he trailed off and they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

 

“You can’t mess with him.” Cas said again, just in case Lucifer had forgotten.

 

“I know Cassie. I know.” He sounded regretful. “I’m pretty sure he’s straight as a ruler too.”

 

“Probably.” He shrugged. Sexuality was probably the least of Sammy’s problems. “You’re screwed.” Cas pointed out, for lack of anything better to say but he thought it was a fairly accurate assumption.

 

Lucifer rolled his eyes finally looking up from the carpet. “Tell me about it.” he huffed. “What do you think I should do?”

 

Cas took a moment to chuckle at that because for someone to ask him for relationship advice then they must be pretty damn desperate. “You’re really asking me right now?” he asked incredulously.

 

Lucifer sighed, his shoulders hunching. “Oh my god you’re right. What have I come to? What am I going to do?”

 

“Relax.” Castiel put his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, a vague gesture of support. “Just… be sure, Lucifer. He just lost everything overnight, he doesn’t need you to play games with him.” Cas knew this was the right answer but at the same time… he was pretty sure Lucifer had never felt anything like this before. He had never been flushed and tripping over himself for another person. It was unfair that the one time it happened it had to be with someone who had lost the woman he loved not six weeks ago.

 

Lucifer riled back, though, as if offended by the idea. “I know I’m an asshole but I’m not that kind of an asshole.”

 

“I know. I didn’t… he went through a tough time. That’s all I can say really. I shouldn’t tell you what to do.”

 

Lucifer took a deep breath, gathering courage. “Let’s go back.” He just sounded so disappointed and Cas wished he could give him something more. Gabriel would probably have been better at this.

 

He shrugged though and followed Lucifer.

 

When they got back to the dining room, Michael was stifling his laugh behind his napkin, Gabriel and Sammy were practically hunched over and chuckling and Dean… well, Dean was flushed red and grinning widely. His eyes shot up once he saw Cas and he impatiently gestured for him to sit down.

 

“What did we miss?” Lucifer asked, trying to figure out where the joke was.

 

“I was just telling Dean what a pity it was hat you two have know each other since primary school because we can’t show him any embarrassing pictures.” Gabriel said once he stopped laughing, still red and short of breath.

 

“And then we started exchanging embarrassing stories about you—”

 

“Oh god, are you kidding me?” Cas buried his face in his hands, terrified to know what the stories were about. Knowing Gabriel though, and his ability to corrupt others, he’d say it was probably something extremely embarrassing that Cas would rather have stayed hidden forever.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I still love you.” Dean whispered, still smiling widely, before leaning to brush his lips against Cas’s.

 

The table erupted in a sequence of “Awwww”s and Cas rolled his eyes once they broke away but he was smiling, too. Yeah, he could definitely imagine more of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm pretty sure this is a happy chapter, maybe a little sappy at times (compared to the rest of this at least ;)
> 
> make sure to comment :))))))))


	23. Remember The Titans

Dean loved his job…mostly. It gave him a chance to be there for people when they needed it the most. Maybe it wasn’t in the most conventional way but it was what he had to offer and it reminded him of himself sometimes.

When he came back to Chicago, he spent a few months drenched in despair, closing into himself and trying to salvage whatever parts of himself he could find and glue them back together. Soon though, he had to come up with something to do and he figured, why not SWAT? He already had the training, he could easily pass the qualification and… it sort of was the civilian equivalent of what saved him.

When he was tied up, when he couldn’t tell what year it was anymore, when he couldn’t even remember how many times a day they abused him, it had a been a navy SEALS team that had ambushed his captors and saved him. He thought, if he could do this and afford the people he helped even part of the same relief that was afforded to him, then it was worth it for everything he had.

It had been difficult at first, getting back into a routine, reacquainting himself with guns and the loud noises that accompanied them but he’d never felt out of his depth. Little by little, he’d gotten better at it, learning to accept that sometimes, no matter how hard you tired you still failed; you still let people down. That was the hardest part; always. Maybe it was because he could relate to the people he was called in to help; he could understand their desperation and their fear but he got better at compartmentalizing it as well.

Eventually, they appointed him in charge of his own team and his first thought had been “they must be out of their minds”. Why would they give the captaincy of a team, a team with the ability to shoot and attack lethally to an emotional fuck-up like him? At that time, he was literally afraid of his own shadow; he could barely stand on his own two feet but surprisingly enough, it turned out he was good at being a captain. It was like, whatever balance he lacked emotionally, he put into his job and it paid off. And Benny was there with him and he knew part of what Dean was fighting through every day and that had helped, somewhat.

Dean had been doing this for three years now and he thought back to where it all started. He had come a long way since then but there were still times he cringed into himself and he was terrified that he wouldn’t get better again. Sometimes, he was afraid to open his eyes in the morning because he thought, just for a few seconds, that the life he had now wasn’t real.

Cas helped; he helped a lot. He didn’t let Dean dig too deep into himself and he definitely didn’t let him get lost in it. Cas gave back to Dean what Dean thought he would never had again and for that, he was immensely grateful.

When he first came back, he couldn’t stop cursing himself for what he did and how his decisions ended up destroying his life. Now, although he wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was over it, he didn’t think about it like that. It didn’t help him in any way because he couldn’t change what had happened to him and he’d accepted that. Things were getting better now and Dean even had a few days where his feelings resembled a normal person’s and that was more than fine by him. He accepted himself for what he was and he acknowledged what he’d been through and at the end of the day, he had someone to come home to.

“What are you smiling about?” Benny asked suspiciously and Dean realized he’d been grinning at nothing in particular. Surprisingly, it only served to make him happier because he could do that now; he had reason to do it.

“I’m being optimistic, Benny. Embrace it.” he gave Benny’s back a pat and pulled his gun belt tighter around his hips.

“You’re weirding me out.” Benny mumbled and when Dean turned to look at him, he did look kind of scared.

Dean chuckled and walked away, heading to the communications’ station. “Someone’s happy today.” Charlie pointed out as she caught up to him.

“Someone else is late for work today.” Charlie blushed and put on her headset before taking a seat at her response station. She was in charge of coordinating the response teams.

Dean grinned and eyed a box of donuts harmlessly resting on her desk, contemplating having one when Charlie’s phone started ringing and Dean’s pager subsequently went off. His focus instantly shifted away from the donuts, adrenaline shooting through his body in short pangs as his heart sped up in a way that felt both familiar and frightening.

He ran back to the armory to grab everything he needed before joining the rest of his team.

******

Out of all the calls received, Dean would have to admit, hands down, that the ones he hated the most were the domestics. Domestic disturbance, violence, abuse, anything really. They made his skin crawl unpleasantly and his hands twitch involuntarily. He could admit it to himself that it was because the domestic calls reminded him of his own fucked up childhood. Which wasn’t really fair because they’d all been just fine as long as his father was away but after he came back, that was when shit started going downhill. Dean always felt guilty thinking about that, even when he was younger and didn’t really understand what being in the marines meant, he felt guilty for not wanting John to come home. His mother would always beam though so Dean tried, he really tried to relate to the man who had been absent for most of his childhood and after a while, it didn’t feel like an effort anymore.

The calls also reminded Dean of Cas’s childhood though and in a way that made him feel even worse. Cas had learnt the truth about life way sooner than any kid should. He’d learnt that when you die you don’t go to heaven but you rot in the ground and sometimes, life doesn’t care how much you love someone and still takes them away.

There wasn’t any time for reminiscing though, Dean told himself as he stepped out of the van. It was a nice suburban neighborhood, the houses weren’t too big but the yards were tended to and decorated with colorful flowers. After so many domestic disturbance calls, the only thing Dean could think was how no one really knew what went on behind the varnished closed doors.

There were three police cars parked outside one of the houses and two civilian cars, which Dean supposed belonged to detectives. The officers had camped out on the closed street and a negotiator was trying to do something with a loudspeaker but by the faces of the people in blue surrounding him, it wasn’t panning out.

One of the officers looked up and saw Dean approaching, his frown dissolving into momentary relief. “I’m the SWAT captain. We were told there is a hostage situation.”

“I’m detective Mills.” A woman, probably the one in charge, stepped forward to shake Dean’s hand.

“Captain Winchester.” He said courtly, even though he was buzzing with anticipation now, the knowledge of wasting precious time weighing down on him.

“I’m the detective assigned to the case. The house belongs to Lisa Braeden, she, her son, Ben and her husband, the boy’s stepfather, Dick Roman live here. Mr. Roman is being charged with third degree murder, we came in for the arrest this morning but he had a gun, he grabbed the boy by the neck and threatened to shoot if we didn’t back off.” Detective Mills informed him as Dean looking over the house plans, already spread out on the hood of one of the police cars.

“How long have you been trying to negotiate for?” Dean asked without looking up from the plans. He figured they would go their usual route, one team covering the front door and one team covering the back.

“Less than an hour but he isn’t budging.”

“What does he want? Is there any way to get it to him?”

“He swears up and down he didn’t do it. That he’s innocent.” The negotiator sounds exasperated.

“Is he?” Domestic cases were a lot more unpredictable than the preplanned bank robbery and Dean didn’t like surprises. He preferred to leave the matters to the negotiator to solve in a civilized manner if tactical force could be avoided.

“The evidence was conclusive. There is video footage of him shooting his ex wife in the head in his office’s parking lot and then leaving her there.” _There goes the civilized route then._

“Okay.” Dean nodded to himself. “Try to keep him calm for fifteen and we’ll be ready to enter.”

He walked back to the equipment van and, with Jax’s help, came up with an entry plan that didn’t involve too many fluctuating factors because the protocol was different when kids were involved. In the end, it took them less than ten minutes to plan out their strategy, repeat the plan twice out loud for good measure and grab what they needed.

He asked all the officers to take cover because that was protocol and took point on the front door with Benny in charge of the back door. They used flash-bang grenades, shooting them in through the living room windows and counting to three before making a simultaneous entry. Benny took down Roman while Dean grabbed the kid out of the way and Jax went to help the woman.

It took them less than sixty seconds and then they were walking out, Roman with his hands cuffed behind his back, the woman a sobbing and disoriented mess and the kid swaggering but surprisingly calm. It had gotten easy by now, Dean realized and he didn’t know if he should be glad or disturbed.

******

Dean had to go to the station afterwards and give his statement but by now, this part had gotten easy as well. He recited his clichés, stifling a yawn because it was a little heartless but it was eight o’clock in the morning and he was just coming off a twelve-hour night shift.

“Is that all?” Dean forced himself to ask because he dealt with the police department on a daily basis and he needed to be accommodating.

The Internal Affairs guy looked up from the file, double checking that Dean had signed his testimony and nodded with a tight smile. Dean stood up and turned around to leave—they were doing this at a desk and not an interrogation room—and stopped to say hallo to a couple of guys he knew. He was passing by the waiting room when he saw the kid from the house sitting in one of the chairs, a blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders and a social worker chattering away next to him. The kid—what was it… Brad?—was gazing away onto space, not even listening to her but the way he held himself made Dean’s steps come to a halt.

He tried to remember how old the kid was from what the IA guy had told him and he thought maybe ten? But the kid didn’t look ten; he looked a lot older than that. Something in the way his eyes refused to focus on anything around him or the way he had his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around them was familiar. Dean looked around the waiting room but the boy’s mother was nowhere to be found which was strange because Dean remembered seeing her when he’d first gotten here.

He contemplated shrugging it off but he found himself walking toward the vending machine instead, eyes still on the two of them. He pushed the button for a soda and then walked over to the boy, crouching in front of him but not too close. The social worker gave him a weary look but he smiled at her like he just wanted to help.

“Hey, buddy. Have you had anything to drink? You must be kinda thirsty.” Dean held out the soda can for him, hoping he sounded encouraging and not creepy. The kid must have been thirsty though because his eyes shifted to the soda and then to Dean and maybe he remembered Dean because he didn’t look as guarded when he reached out and took the can with hesitant hands.

He was shaking though and the can slipped from his fingers and this was the first time Dean noticed how small the kid’s hands were. Like, he knew kids generally had small extremities but this kid’s didn’t only look small, they hands looked fragile.

The can made a thud as it fell on the floor and started rolling toward Dean and the look the kid shot him could only be described at terrified. He started shaking harder and curled further into himself if that was even possible and Dean just knew. Maybe it was because he had seen too many of these cases of even because of himself but there was no mistaking the fear in the kids eyes as he looked at Dean.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He said quickly, picking the can from under him and handing it back to kid. “It’s a little slippery, that’s fine.” He tried to smile and this time, it took a little while longer but the kid reached out again and took the soda. He was still trembling but Dean was inherently grateful that he had managed to get even this small thing out of him.

“My name is Dean by the way.” he said casually at the kid opened the can and cautiously took a sip from it. His eyes didn’t leave Dean’s the entire time but they looked slightly foggy. “Do you mind if I wait with you guys for a while?” he used the tone Cas did with him whenever he was shaken up.

The kid was cautious but after a few minutes, when Dean’s calves were starting to cramp and his knees ache from the position, he nodded and Dean sat down, leaving an empty seat between them. The kid sipped the soda almost mechanically, still refusing to focus on anything in particular.

“Are you a soldier?” he asked and Dean flinched in his seat, no idea how the kid came to ask that. Then he looked down and saw the tags he usually wore around his neck but underneath his shirt when he was at work had fallen out and were standing against his vest.

“I used to be.” his hand came to cover the two metal tags instinctively, as if he wanted to protect them.

“How come you aren’t anymore?”

Dean swallowed but when he said it, it was easy. Maybe it was because he was telling a kid but Dean had a feeling the kid knew more than he had to for his age. But maybe that was why it was easy; because Dean knew the kid needed to hear it. “Something bad happened to me.”

He was aware his voice came out scratchy but it made the boy turn towards him, his eyes skimming over Dean like he was inspecting him. “Ben.” He said eventually.

Dean couldn’t help the abrupt sense of satisfaction that went through him now that he had persuaded Ben to talk to him. By the look the social worker gave him, she was impressed. “Nice to meet you, Ben.”

“My dad was a soldier.” Ben mumbled but he wasn’t referring to Dick the dick.

“Really?”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked onto Dean’s tags. “My mom said he died there.”

Dean hoped to god he didn’t screw this up. “I’m sorry. That happens a lot over there.” Ben gave no indication he heard him though. “Wanna check them out?” Dean looked down to his tags. They were from his first tour, back when being in the army made sense and he always wore them at work. They gave him a false sense of security.

Ben nodded hesitantly and Dean pulled the chain over his neck to hand it to him. He realized now, as Ben looked them over with tiny fingers that looked like they were afraid to touch, that he had never let anyone touch these tags except for the officer who handed them to him. They were private, something only for him but right now, Ben looked like he needed the sense of security more than Dean.

“Did you like it?” Dean couldn’t get over how small Ben’s voice sounded. He wondered how many kids sounded like that and he simply hadn’t noticed before.

“At first.”

“And then the bad thing happened?” Ben asked, his tiny hands clutching at the two tags like someone was going to take them away.

Dean swallowed. He didn’t think Ben should find out about the gruesomeness of war from him in a police station waiting room after his stepfather had grabbed him by the throat and threatened to shoot him. “Yeah. Then the bsd thing happened.” He settled for saying; his voice sounded thick.

Ben looked up from the tags and his eyes didn’t look neutral anymore. They looked like he wanted to help Dean, even though Ben himself looked like he was barely holding it together. “Hey.” Ben’s bony hand reached out and placed the dog tags in Dean’s palm. “It’s okay, Dean.” And damn the kid sounded like he had said these words so many times before; he sounded practiced and it was just horrible. Ben was barely ten and he had already learnt how to comfort someone? That wasn’t the way it was meant to be.

“I know buddy.” He forced the word out because Ben looked at him expectantly and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, I’ll talk to the lady who’s looking after you for a second and I’ll be right back, okay?” he smiled, hoped it looked genuine and even though Ben looked uncertain, he let Dean go.

Dean stood up and jerked his head to the vending machine across the waiting room for the social worker to follow him. “Where is his mom?”

“Uhm… she’s giving her statement.”

“Still?” they’ve been here for over two hours, there is no way she’s still giving her statement.

The social worker looked torn but she leaned closer to Dean and lowered her voice. “They checked Ben over in the ambulance and they found a lot of bruises that couldn’t be explained by falls.”

Dean expected to hear that, he really did but he still couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted and his eyes instinctively glanced towards Ben. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yeah but you know I can’t discuss what he told me.” She looked guilty in a way that social workers did when they were too innocent and too unprepared for the things they discovered.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“This is my third case on my own.”

“It sucks, huh?”

The social worker chuckled humorlessly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Understatement. How did you know?”

“What?”

“You talked to him like you knew something was wrong and I guess… you talked to him like you knew what to say.” She was treading lightly and Dean appreciated it.

“I wasn’t lying about something bad happening.” He sighed. “What do you think is gonna happen to the mother—and I know about the protocol and open cases just. I need to know.” He needed to make sure Ben would be safe and that was totally twisted because he couldn’t keep himself safe some nights.

The woman pursed her lips and she suddenly looked so young as well. “I don’t… she didn’t have any bruises. That’s the only thing I can tell you.” and really, that was enough. Dean knew what the worker was thinking because innocent or not, he was thinking the same thing. How could the mother stand by and watch it happen? But that was more than a little unfair, Dean supposed. Maybe the mother had bruises and scars that simply weren’t visible and Dean tried to make himself sympathize; he tried to imagine being in her position but he just couldn’t grasp how she could let this go on.

“Do they think it was the stepfather?” Dean shook himself out of it so he could ask her.

“Yeah. They’ve had calls for domestic disturbances before and the guy just shot his ex wife.”

Dean frowned because really, how did you let that kind of guy around your kid? “What’s gonna happen to him?”

“Depends on the mother’s testimony. If she was a victim as well, then custody will be given back to her. If she was an accomplish she could be charged with negligence of a minor and he could end up in the system or with her family.” She didn’t sound like she appreciated any of those options.

“That sucks.” Dean settled for. He was still wearing his uniform and his gun belt, although he had handed everything over once he came in but he felt bare without his tags.

The worker nodded and they walked back to the waiting room. This time, Dean took the seat right next to ben and Ben leaned into him, ever so slightly, hands still squeezing the tags. Dean kept up some form of idle conversation, kept Ben talking and asked the worker to jump in with her own opinion every now and then. Before he knew it, an hour had passed by and his phone was vibrating in his pocket. He smiled once he pulled it out and saw Cas’s name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, is everything all right?” Cas sounded worried and it took Dean a moment to realize it was because he hadn’t called him after his shift. Dean usually called or just texted to make sure Cas knew he was okay and wasn’t worried.

“Oh, shit—fuck no—ughhh.” Ben chuckled next to him but Dean really didn’t think you were supposed to cuss around children. “I’m sorry. I’m still at the station. Last call ran long.”

“Okay?” Cas sounded like he was smiling. “Is there a kid with you?”

“Yeah, we’re sitting at the waiting room. How about you?”

“Just finished my sixtieth stitch of the day so I am ecstatic.”

Dean found himself smiling despite everything. “You sound it.” he mumbled teasingly.

“Hey, I’ll have you know—oh, crap. I’m being paged. I have to go.” he had the same apologetic tone to his voice like every other time and Dean really didn’t like when Cas felt guilty about this. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no. Just go, you need to go help people.” He discreetly turned away from ben and Tessa, the social worker. “Love you.” he said quietly because now he could say it without it hurting.

“Love you, too.” Cas sounded happy but not surprised to hear the words which Dean considered a step in the right direction.

Can hanged up and Dean put his phone away before turning around again. “Was that your wife?” Ben asked, kinda guilty and very quiet.

Dean frowned. They were really starting to get somewhere. He didn’t miss the look Tessa gave him, like she was worried about his answer. “Nah.” Dean bit his lip for a minute but it wasn’t like lying was better. “I’m not really into girls.”

“Oh.” Ben’s eyes got wider and he looked Dean over like he was trying to figure him out again. “You don’t… you like boys?”

Dean swallowed. Maybe he should have just lied because Ben didn’t seem too receptive of the situation. “Yeah.”

“You don’t think that’s wrong?” but… Ben suddenly sounded hopeful.

“I love him and he loves me so I don’t think that’s wrong.” And this answer came easy to him. He remembered how hard he had fought with himself to accept it and now, more than ten years later, it just seemed so ridiculous, that his main problem used to be his big gay crush and his father’s obvious disapproval of it. Of course, his big gay crush turned out to be his big gay love so things were good.

“Oh.” Ben looked down at Dean’s tag and traced the raised letters spelling out Dean’s name. “It’s okay, Dean. I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Dean smiled sadly. Ben sounded strained, like there was more to the story. “Thanks buddy.”

An officer came up to them and whispered something to Tessa. Her lips turned into a thin line and her hand grabbed the arm of her chair. She looked disappointed, like she thought this would happen all along but she still hoped for something different.

“Hey, Ben.” She turned to him with a smile that was too flat to be genuine. “Your mom is gonna stay here for a little while longer so you need to come with me, okay?”

Ben’s eyebrows drew together for a moment but it was a short one before he nodded. He looked resigned and in a sense, that was even worse than him being angry with them. “Okay.” He muttered quietly.

Tessa was surprised; she must have been expecting a tantrum of some sort and so had Dean. “Alright. You wonna say goodbye to Dean?”

Ben jumped off his seat and this way, he and Dean were at the same height. “Bye, Dean.” He handed Dean the tags and Dean could see the red imprints on Ben’s palm from where he’d gripped the so hard.

“Bye, Ben.” Dean squeezed his shoulder and took the tags.

Dean watched Tessa and Ben walking away as he pulled the tags back over his head. He always thought what happened to him was unfair but at least he’d had twenty-five years before it happened. How many had Ben had? Not enough, for sure.

He sighed and stood up, heading to the exit, on the opposite direction of Ben and Tessa. How many kids hadn’t had enough good years? Dean had long ago accepted he couldn’t save everyone but some days, saving just one or two just wasn’t enough.

“Dean!” He heard someone yelling his name and quick footsteps approaching him and just as he turned around, Ben collided with him, arms coming to wrap themselves around Dean’s hips. He didn’t say anything but he closed his eyes when Dean brought his hand to rest on his head.

Everyone around them was staring but Ben was shaking again and Dean kneeled on the hard floor so he could look at him. “Hey.” He unclipped his chain and removed one of the tags. “This is yours.” He handed it to Ben even though it wasn’t enough; it was so far from enough.

“You won’t miss it?”

“I have another one and you need it.” his voice was thick but he held everything back. He would be home in a while and he could come apart at the safety of his familiarities.

“Thank you.” Ben brought his arms around Dean’s neck and squeezed hard enough to make it difficult for Dean to breathe. It was only for a second though because then Ben untangled himself from Dean and ran back to Tessa. The chain around Dean neck felt lighter but it was worth it. Some days, saving one was just enough.

******

Really, thinking back on it, Dean should have seen it coming. He hadn’t had a panic attack in weeks and the last ones he’d had were too mild so he was definitely due for a serious one.

He went back to his apartment and he felt like a _wreck_. He was used to being tired after having a night shift but this was way beyond tired. He didn’t really want to sleep; he just wanted to burry himself under the covers and just stay there.

As it was though, he had things to do. At least that’s what he told himself while he looked over the litany of packed boxes decorating his living room and kitchen. He and Cas had finally decided to get to it and move in together and since Cas’s house was way better than Dean’s apartment, they’d opted for that. Problem was, Cas wasn’t a fond believer of things like pots or pans or even dishes that weren’t made of plastic. Also, he didn’t like shelves or bookcases, which led to his entire living floor being covered in books and magazines. Usually, Dean found his quirks endearing but after having spent an entire weeks trying to pack shit, he was starting to doubt his judgment.

He shook his head and put his keys in a bowl by the door before walking to his bedroom. It was the only room left and Dean really wanted to get it over with. This apartment didn’t feel like home anymore and he just wanted to _go_ home. So he grabbed a couple of boxes, assembled them and, after taking off his vest, gun belt and boots, pulled the wardrobe flaps open and started shoving shit into the boxes. Looking over his clothes, he was starting to discover things he had no idea he owned but they were all weird like Hawaiian shirts and orange pants so not knowing was for the better. Had he ever even wore those? Maybe he’d worn them together.

Once he’d finished with the closet, he looked up and saw a box peeking out from the top shelf. He knew what it was but he still had plenty of other things to pack so he’d leave it for later if he could.

He ended up packing the clothes from the dresser, his shoes and threw away all the junk that had accumulated over the years. The bathroom was easy really; most of the things he used were already at Cas’s house and so he threw away everything else, like half used shampoo bottles and shaving creams. He took the towels with him though because they were colorful and one of the first things Dean had bought when coming to live on his own. The bathroom looked bare when he was finished, just like the rest of the house.

He walked back to the living room, suddenly grateful that the apartment had come with furniture and he wouldn’t have to arrange for a moving truck as well. At first, he’d thought seeing his apartment like this would be sad but… it just made him feel accomplished. He had made it through. Three years ago, he was lying on a hospital bed in Germany, afraid to look at himself fin the mirror and shying away from everyone. He had panic attacks and PTSD episodes that made the doctors drug him and recommend intensive psychiatric care. Three years ago, he had to sleep on the floor with all the lights turned on and now… now he was packing his stuff to go move in with Cas. _Cas_.

Sometimes, it still seemed to good to be true but then he’d remember everything that had happened to both Cas and himself and he’d get over it. He thought, for all the shit they had both seen they deserved their fucking happy ending.

With that in mind, he went back to his bedroom and pulled down the cardboard box. It was labeled “don’t open” with a thick black marker, the words underlined multiple times. Dean remembered writing them shortly after he’d shoved everything in there the afternoon after his decoration ceremony.

He put the box on his bare mattress and stabbed the tape holding it closed with a pair of scissors.  The first thing he saw was his neatly pressed and put away in a plastic dry cleaner’s bag dress blues. His official uniform, hidden away and covering everything else that was in the box. He pulled it out and couldn’t resist smoothing it over once he’s laid it on the mattress next to the box.

The next things he saw were his medals. Two black velvet cases, ominously glaring at him like he should be ashamed he hid them. Both medals had been awarded to him merely six weeks after flying back to the US from Germany. He still remembered standing on the stage, pretending he wasn’t immensely fucked up on the inside and pulling his body in attention when the commanding General of the Marine corps came to pin the medals on his uniform. He remembered the loud and piercing noise the rifles made as the officers pulled the triggers and how hard he had to try to keep it together.

He put both cases on top of his uniform and picked up the next object, a picture frame of him and his father, both dressed in fatigues. Dean remembered that as well. He was sixteen and John had taken on a hunting trip. The only thing Dean could think about was maybe you shouldn’t drink scotch while handling a shotgun in the woods at night but John did it anyway. They had caught a deer—or, Dean had caught a deer—and he hadn’t taken a good shot. The deer hadn’t died, it had kept contracting and writhing, covered in blood and lying on a patch of dried leaves.

John had looked at him like he was proud and said, “go ahead. Take it out of his misery.”, and Dean had because well. What else was he supposed to do? He’d shot the deer again, point black with John’s handgun and the first thing he did when they returned home was take a shower. He felt disgusting. The next day he’d told Cas all about it and Cas had said, “You don’t have to be like him” and he’d sounded so sincere and Dean wanted to believe everything he said.

Dean realized he was clutching at the picture frame and he brought his hand up and threw it against the wall. It hit the hard surface and shattered and it just seemed like it wasn’t enough. He grabbed one of the black velvet cases, wrenched it open and threw that as well and it just landed with a soft thud and _nothing_ was enough.

 _He_ wasn’t enough. His mother had died and he wasn’t enough to keep his father in line so John took it out on Sam and him. Then, John had died and Dean still felt like he wasn’t enough, like he wasn’t even going to be enough, so he enlisted because he wanted—he needed—out of some twisted remnants of a wretched father and son relationship to make John proud of him.

He had two service medals now and even more badges of honor and an honorable discharge though so he thought John had to be proud of him now, right? He _had_ to because Dean had nothing more to give him. He had nothing left.

Suddenly Dean gasped for breath only to realize he couldn’t breathe deep enough and of course this had to happen now. He felt everything closing in around him and every thought and doubt he was sure he had put safely away was slowly creeping up on him. He had forgotten how bad they all felt. How worthless and useless and disgusting they made him feel.

How could he have forgotten though? How could he think he had put them away? They would never go away because they were the truth. He refused to listen to them and profusely refused to believe them but what if the thoughts and the doubts and the small parts of him that told him he didn’t deserve any of this were right? What if that was the reason he couldn’t burry them away?

He fell to his knees on the hard floor, hands coming to cover his face and hide it but he felt so _exposed_. His eyesight was getting blurry, black shadows forming around him and he tried to blink it away but when he opened his eyes again, he didn’t even know where he was. He could still smell them around him, breathing onto his skin and then he could smell them _on_ him and it was just terrifying.

He gave up and came to lie on the floor on his side, wrapping his hands around his knees and curling into himself in a parody of what Ben looked like earlier today. He couldn’t even remember Ben though; he only remembered his torturers. Tying him up and beating him and the worst part was the things they told him and how their words seemed to have carved themselves onto Dean’s body.

_Slut._

_My beautiful bitch._

_Hungry for it._

And they weren’t even lying because Dean had begged for it. He had begged for it in ways he hadn’t even begged Cas and he knew the comparison was wrong, he knew it but right now he couldn’t even remember why. He tried to think about Cas and then it was Cas beating him; Cas electrocuting him; Cas raping him and ripping him apart on the inside. He tried to remember how Cas looked at him and how he sounded when he told Dean he loved him but it just wouldn’t come. He simply couldn’t find the memories and he felt robbed in a way that hurt more than anything else.

He thought back on it, tried to see it and realized, he couldn’t even remember himself without them torturing him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a sad chapter but not to worry, things are looking up (I promise)
> 
> don't forget to comment because i really appreciate it and like hearing what you think on it :)))


	24. Asylum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i'm not updating this as often but the chapter are a bit longer now and i don't have as much time so i will keep updating this once a week :)

_Dean had his hands tied together and was hanging from a hook on the ceiling, that much he knew. He didn’t know though, how long he had been here for; how long it had been since the last time he slept or had some water to drink. His shoulders ached and strained with the more weight he put on them but his tows could barely reach the concrete floor. His back was arched from the effort it took to stay like spread like this and he could feel his ribs protruding under a too thin layer of skin and muscle._

_He heard a noise, like a clatter, coming from behind him but he didn’t even attempt to turn around. His breath hitched involuntarily once he felt warm hands stroke over his sides. They didn’t even keep up the charade of interrogating him anymore and they didn’t have to. Dean knew what they kept him for; he knew what he was good for._

_“Dean!” the calling of his name was loud but it wasn’t coming for one of his captors; they never called him by his name. “Dean!” He heard it again and he thought, if he concentrated hard enough, he could see it sounded a little like Cas._

_Dean squeezed his eyes shut because he didn’t need this now. He didn’t want Cas to see him like this now._

Dean slowly became aware of a cold, melting sensation on his wrist and soft murmuring. He thought he should probably open his eyes but he didn’t want to know where he was. It would only make it worse for him once he went back.

“Dean, come on, I know you can hear me.” The words were quiet but strained. Worried. They didn’t sound fake or muffled like in his memories.

The cold moved to his other wrist and he shuddered. He didn’t think it should feel this cold but suddenly, the more he concentrated on where he was, the colder he felt. He was pretty sure he was shaking when someone draped a heavy blanket over him.

“Come on, Dean.” The words sounded desperate this time. “Please, can you open you eyes for me?”

He was still lying on the floor and his entire right side ached. His shoulder was numb and he couldn’t feel his fingers. He knew he should probably open his eyes, he knew this felt way more real than being suspended from the ceiling but he didn’t want to. It was too easy to keep them closed and force everything else away.

 

 _The man walked up behind Dean and Dean braced himself for impact… for_ something _but he merely felt a pair of gentle hands on is back. In a sense, he thought that was even worse that the roughness he was used to. He flinched and shifted forward which only made his shoulders hurt more but the man standing behind him steadied him with a hand on his side._

_By now, Dean was well aware that really, no matter how hard he fought, it would still eventually happen, what they wanted, so he took a deep breath and it wasn’t even too difficult to relax again. He would probably hate himself for this later, once he was alone in his “room” but he didn’t want the extra bruises. He felt too tired for that now._

_“My beautiful, bitch.” The man behind him hissed, his breath wet against Dean’s ear and his hand dipped lower, pressing into the crease of Dean’s groin._

_Dean whimpered although he tried to stifle it; there was a fresh bruise already forming there. The sound he made only delighted his torturer though and he moved closer, fully pressing himself against Dean’s back. He was already hard and the rough fabric of his fatigues scrubbed painfully at Dean’s sensitive skin._

_“So wanting.” He murmured, breathing in over Dean’s nape. “You stink.” He pointed out and Dean wasn’t surprised really. He knew sometimes they washed him down when he was passed out but he couldn’t even remember the last time that happened._

_The man moved away but he came back a few seconds later, pressing a wet piece of cloth against Dean’s back. His fingers squeezed around it and water came dribbling down Dean’s skin, pooling at his lower back for a moment before trickling down further, between his asscheeks._

_“I will clean you up, huh?” The man murmured, mostly to himself. By this point, he couldn’t even make Dean talk._

_The man rubbed the cloth over the expanse of Dean’s back and the coolness was almost relief to his wounds. He scrubbed at the grime covering Dean’s sweaty skin, stopping periodically to dip the cloth in a bucket by his feet before trying again. It was as if he expected a bucket of water to clean up his mess. The thought almost made Dean laugh._

_“So filthy.” He whispered as he spread Dean’s cheeks. He sounded like he enjoyed admiring at his handiwork._

_Dean suppressed a whine when the man pressed the cloth against this used hole and that made the man stop. He stood up straight and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s hair, yanking backwards. He didn’t like it when Dean covered them up, the evidence of what the man had done to him._

_He pulled Dean’s hair back more until he cried out, the strain on his shoulder and neck now almost unbearable. The man smiled in satisfaction and licked a stripe over Dean’s armpit. “That’s a good boy.” He praised when the movement made Dean whine._

_The man gently let go of Dean’s head and trailed a hand through his greasy hair before returning to his ass. “You’re so dirty for me.” He said, sounding fucking excited and that was all the warning Dean got before the man slapped at his ass harshly._

_Dean didn’t even try to keep it down this time because his skin was far too abused for that. “So dirty. So desperate.” The man kept mumbling as he softly scrubbed at Dean’s swollen and bloodied rim. He needed to stop to cleanse the rug more often but that made sense. Dean could feel the dried and crusted blood over there every time he shifted even a little._

_Once he was satisfied with Dean’s back and ass he threw the cloth on the floor and kicked the bucket away. He didn’t try to clean off the mess of come and blood and tears and drool on Dean’s chest and face but Dean didn’t mind. The man usually avoided looking at his front if he could help it and Dean preferred it that way._

_“I can make you feel so good now that you’re all clean for me.” He whispered before spreading Dean’s ass to spit on his hole. Dean cringed but then again, spit was better than nothing. He even used a finger this time, thrusting inside a couple of times before pulling out and nudging at Dean’s rim with his cock. He had to try a few times before Dean finally opened for him and once he started forcing his cock inside, Dean felt tears begin to trickle down is cheeks. It hurt and it was burning and blinding and almost too much, ripping at him anew and reopening old wounds._

_Dean didn’t even wish for it to end anymore; he only wished that he could sleep. He was too tired for anything else._

“Dean? Can you hear me?” it didn’t sound like his torturers this time. It sounded like… some sort of British accent? “Can you open your eyes for me?” a hand came to squeeze his fingers and Dean flinched involuntarily but he couldn’t move his arms. He abruptly became extremely aware that he wasn’t lying on his bedroom anymore and he wasn’t suspended from the ceiling in a nasty warehouse. He was lying in a bed and the air smelled of plastic and disinfectant.

A monotonous beeping filled his ears, speeding up when Dean tried to move his arms and couldn’t. “Dean, I need you to stay calm. You are at the hospital and your wrists are restrained.” He sounded so calm and Dean could barely process the words. He knew his voice though, the composed and neutral tone. “I need you to open your eyes, okay?”

He knew the voice but he still didn’t trust himself to believe all this. He tried to remember where he was before this. He couldn’t tell if it was his house of back in Iraq but he could remember the panic that overcame him, too quickly for him to be able to do anything about it.

The beeping sped up even more and Dean could hear some shuffling on the other side of him. “Dean, you’re in Chicago, Illinois, at the VA medical center and you’re safe. You know this. You know me, come on.” Crowley, it was Crowley’s voice and Dean didn’t know if he should feel better or worse about this.

He suddenly recalled how he couldn’t remember Cas’s face before and he panicked for just a moment before his mind was flooded by images of him. Images of him and Dean and Dean could remember himself as well, without his torturers’ shadows surrounding him. He was immensely relieved at that, at the mere ability to once again be able to see reality again and he slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light over him.

“Okay, okay, that’s good.” Crowley sighed and he sounded relived as well. Dean had no idea how long he had been like this but his mouth felt dry and his head was pounding.

Dean looked around the room, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes and taking in the white walls and the lack of sunlight coming from the windows. He turned his head to the side, away from Crowley and saw Cas sitting on a chair, a couple of feet away from Dean’s bed.

Dean hesitated before settling his eyes on him, afraid that it wouldn’t feel the same of he would be scared of him instead of loving him but he felt a huge weight come off his shoulders when he realized that that wasn’t the case. Cas was the same really, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together under his jaw and Dean was sure, if he were standing right now, he would feel his knees buckle. Cas’s leg was fidgeting and he was looking at Dean expectantly but also worryingly and Dean didn’t hate him and he wasn’t scared of him; he just wanted Cas to come closer because he knew it would make this better. Cas always made him feel better but Cas didn’t move at all, even as Dean kept looking at him.

Could Dean have done something and not remember it? Seeing as he couldn’t even tell what day of the week they were on, it was highly possible. Dean felt sick at the thought that he could have done something in his panic to scare Cas away from him. Cas, who was always so confident and sure, now looked uncertain and worried and Dean didn’t like the idea that he made him like that.

“I’m…” he cleared his throat, balking at how scorched it felt. He started coughing and Cas stood up, took a plastic cup from Dean’s bedside table and handed it to Crowley. Why would he give it to Crowley and not hand it to Dean himself?

Crowley nodded, nudging the straw towards Dean. “Here.” Dean took a couple of small sips, wincing because it made him feel worse for a second but he kept his eyes on Cas the entire time.

“I’m sorry.” His rasped, his gaze locked on Cas’s.

Cas’s eyebrows shot up and he stepped closer. He reached out with a hand towards Dean’s face but bit his lip and brought his hand fell to his side. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice came out thick and his eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept.

“Tell… tell me what’s wrong?” it came out pleadingly because he was starting to panic now. His being cuffed to a fucking hospital bed was kinda starting to sink in and on top of that, Cas wouldn’t touch him and Crowley was lurking in the corner, seemingly ready to take action and Dean didn’t get it. Had he tried to hurt Cas? He didn’t think so; he would remember it if he had, right?

“Dean, it’s okay, you just had a panic attack and it was a rough one.” Crowley said calmly, stepping closer but Dean couldn’t look away from Cas.

“What did I do?” He forced the words out, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Cas’s eyebrows jumped again and he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You didn’t do anything Dean.” Crowley continued. “This was just a precautionary measure. We just need to talk a little and I’ll uncuff you.” he sounded like he wanted to reassure Dean and Dean should probably be worried about the restraints but… Cas just looked increasingly uncomfortable and he wouldn’t even meet Dean’s eyes anymore. Could Dean have said something? Maybe Cas… maybe he realized what a waste of time all of this was or maybe he finally saw how filthy Dean was but Cas wasn’t like that. He would never think that of Dean and Dean tried telling himself that but it wasn’t so easy to believe right now. He could almost feel the drag of the wet cloth against his skin and couldn’t help shuddering.

“Please tell me.” He mumbled, uncaring that he sounded desperate. If Cas already thought he was filthy then surely a little bit of begging couldn’t make matters too much worse. 

Cas looked up at that and he seemed pained and Dean never wanted to make Cas feel like that.

“Just… I’m sorry… whatever it was.” His voice came out scratched and his throat still hurt and his head felt like it was filled with lead but he needed to know. “Cas…please.”

At the sound of his name Cas stepped even closer and he only hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking Dean’s hand in his own. Dean realized how cold his hands still were and he shivered. Cas leaned closer until his head came to rest on the pillow next to his and he exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry, Dean.” He mumbled and Dean could tell he was barely holding back tears.

Dean had no idea what Cas was apologizing for but he didn’t want him to leave, not now. “No, no, please don’t.” maybe he was selfish but he clutched at Cas’s warm hand and turned to rub his nose into Cas’s hair, trying to breathe everything in. “Please don’t leave.”

He wasn’t even sure it was loud enough for Cas to hear until Cas cupped his jaw with his other hand and uncovered his face from the pillow. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.” He said gently, hesitantly leaning in to press his lips against Dean’s. Dean could tell he was bracing himself for Dean to reject him and Dean wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t but Cas’s lips just felt familiar. They were warm and soft against Dean’s cold and chapped ones and they brought Dean the reassurance he desperately needed. 

Cas pulled back quickly but he didn’t take his hand away from Dean’s. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to be here.”

Dean wasn’t either and it scared him, the thought that he could ever different about Cas. It was what had set him off; he had let the bad memories swallow up everything he had and he couldn’t take it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He didn’t try to hold back the tears brimming his eyes. He always thought he’d feel weak acting like this in front of Cas but Cas made him feel strong about it, like there wasn’t anything wrong with this and how… how could Dean have forgotten?

The beeping sped up again and Cas shot Crowley a worried look. Crowley cleared his throat, capturing Dean’s attention. “I need to ask you a few questions and then I’ll take these off okay?” he sounded more measured than usual.

Dean nodded, sniffled a little and tried to rub his nose against his shirt. At least he wasn’t wearing a gown, he realized, so this situation could have been a lot worse.

“Do you want me to step outside until you’re done?” Cas squeezed his hand.

Dean took a moment to think about it but really, he’d already told Cas for too much to stop now. Dean usually felt queasy thinking back on everything and having to recite it but Cas always managed to dull that particular brand of sickness down so Dean shook his head.

“Okay then but you can change your mind at any point and we can stop at any point.” Crowley always made sure to let him know, whenever they were preparing for a tough session. Dean had only asked him to stop once but this time, he felt worse than he had during any other regular therapy session. The assurance helped him settle somewhat, even though it was mostly Cas’s warm hand around his fingers urging him on.

“Do you remember what day it is?” Crowley asked.

“Uhm… the last day I remember is Tuesday.” Dean answered hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if it was still Tuesday and it this sort of uncertainty scared him a little.

Crowley nodded though, checked his watch. “It’s still Tuesday, a little after eleven in the night. Do you remember having a panic attack?”

“Yeah.” Dean swallowed. “I remember.” He admitted anxiously.

“We don’t have to talk about that right away.” Crowley was quick to say, probably sensing Dean’s uneasiness. “But what is the last thing you do remember?”

Dean thought back on the last few hours, almost felt the fear and hopelessness curl their way back around him and he had to close his eyes and take a breath. But Cas was there this time; his grasp around Dean’s hand went tight and then breathing didn’t feel so hard anymore because Dean knew he had someone waiting for him.

“I found a picture of me and my dad.” He had to stop and cough because his throat still felt too rough on the inside. “It… it sorta went downhill from there.” he fixed his gaze on Cas as he continued. He felt better now but he suspected it would be a while after this until he trusted himself again. “I couldn’t remember anything. I couldn’t see you—or me—and I… I lost it. I remember that.”

Cas clutched his hand harder, his grip now verging on painful but it served as a reminder.

“I’m so sorry.” Dean whispered again. He didn’t know what he was apologizing for but he kept feeling like he should. “Can you please tell me what happened now?” As scary as having a panic attack was, afterwards, when Dean kept losing chunks of time, that terrified even more. Once he snapped out of it, he knew the attack wasn’t real and what was real was the time he was missing.

“I called you a couple of times but you didn’t pick up so I thought you must have been sleeping.” Cas sounded guilty. Dean thought back on how many times he had heard that tone coming from Cas and it was just far too many. “I… I should have checked sooner but I waited until I finished my shift and I called you again and you still didn’t pick up but it was six o’clock and you never sleep past four.” The words became almost tangled together, making it difficult to tell them apart.

“It’s not your fault.” He said. No matter how tousled up Cas’s words got, Den knew he needed to hear that sometimes.

“And I went to your apartment and… I just, I had never seen you like that before.” He wasn’t even looking at Dean anymore; his gaze was fixed on the dark blue blanket over Dean’s body. “You were just so cold Dean.”

Dean thought he could still feel it, being so cold. “Look at me.” He said as steadily as he could manage. “I’m here now. it wasn’t your fault and who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come when you did.” He continued, once Cas turned towards him.

Cas still looked unconvinced though but Dean knew it took Cas a while to digest everything. Hell, Dean himself wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this—except that his throat seemed to throb and the straps around his wrists kept feeling tighter and he despised himself for making Cas feel like this.

“Cas couldn’t bring you out of it so he called me and then an ambulance when that didn’t work out.” Crowley stepped in. He still sounded so unnaturally calm. Dean realized he must have been through this with other patients as well because he seemed to have the process down.

“I asked you to open your eyes and you said you didn’t want to see me.” Cas murmured, far too quiet and it was like someone decided to stick a knife into Dean’s chest and start twisting. Cas shouldn’t ever feel like that—Dean shouldn’t ever _make_ him feel like that because he loved him. You weren’t supposed to cause pain to the person you loved.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was saying those words far too much but he just couldn’t find anything better. His head still felt fuzzy and he tried digging through the fog to remember more, to remember him telling Cas that but he couldn’t.

“Dean, we need to finish this so I can untie you, okay?” Crowley suggested gently and Dean nodded, turning his attention away from Cas. He wasn’t good for him now. “Cas called the ambulance but when the paramedics came, you sort of came back a little, I’m not sure. You started screaming and hey were forced to drug you and restrain you.” Crowley picked up a blue chart from the hospital table and started shifting through it, settling on one of the pages. “I’m your official psychiatrist and I have privileges in this hospital so they called me in and I see fit that you don’t pose as a threat to yourself or the ones around you.” He looked at Dean expectantly like he expected a response so Dean nodded again.

“You have to be kept for 24hour observation but you’re already diagnosed with PTSD and committed yourself to counseling, you have a support system around you so I feel confident that you don’t need further care.” He finally said, like he was going through a mental checklist and singing everything off on the chart as he spoke. “I will untie you hands now, okay?” He put the chart on Dean’s bed and unbuckled the leather strap holding Dean’s left hand confined.

Cas had let go of his right hand so Crowley could do the same but as soon as his hands were free, Dean all but jumped from the bed and pulled Cas into his arms. His hands were clutching at the shirt on Cas’s back but Cas seemed to be just as desperate, tucking his face into Dean’s neck and breathing shakily. He was trembling slightly and it only made Dean hold on harder because, yeah, Dean was shaken up but Cas… Cas looked wrecked. Dean tried to imagine how he would feel if their positions were reversed and he just couldn’t… he couldn’t imagine Cas saying to him that he didn’t want to see him and he definitely didn’t want to imagine Cas strapped to a hospital bed—oh god, what if Cas thought Dean had finally lost it?

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he sounded pleading, even to his own ears but… sometimes he thought that about himself, why shouldn’t Cas?

Cas pulled back, cupped Dean’s face between his hands and his gaze didn’t waver as he spoke. “Of course not. You’re not crazy.”

Dean breathed out in relief. He was dimly aware of Crowley still in the room with them and objectively, Crowley was probably better equipped to answer that question but it meant more coming from Cas. “Thank you.” He mumbled. “I didn’t mean it, you know that, right?” Dean added on second thought because Cas still seemed uncertain.

“I—”

“I know… before I slipped into it, I couldn’t tell what was happening and I couldn’t tell what was real.” He felt exhausted and just talking made his throat scrape painfully but Cas had to know this.

Cas bit his lip but he nodded, even thought he still didn’t look completely convinced. “Was it like… you said sometimes, after you have a nightmare, you’re afraid to wake up—to realize it hadn’t been a nightmare but reality.”

Dean smiled; sometimes, Cas made it feel to easy to talk. “Yeah… it still feels like that sometimes—just now, I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to wake up but I’m glad I did.”

“So am I.” Cas’s hand stroked through his hair before he leaned in and pressed a kiss on Dean’s forehead. “I know I’m supposed to be strong—”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “Not about this. You deserve to be able to react to this because this is about you as well.” That much Dean was sure of, even as he started to feel even more tired.

Cas was struck speechless for a moment but for Dean, it wasn’t about Cas being strong, being a pillar for him to lean in to. It was more about familiarity; how Cas always seemed to find a way to understand Dean even he himself couldn’t and that was far more important. Cas could make Dean feel like he wasn’t _wrong_ , that he was safe and Dean wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Yeah, Dean, okay.”  He pressed their foreheads together, hand still kneading it’s way through Dean’s hair. Cas’s skin felt so much warmer than his and Dean’s eyelids grew heavier with each breath he took. “Do you want to sleep for a while?”

“Will you stay?” Dean didn’t hesitate before asking.

“Of course.” Cas huffed like it wasn’t even a question. He kissed Dean’s temple and moved away, allowing Dean to rest his head back against the pillows. Dean eyed the bed for a minute and figured it would do; his first bed beck when they were teenagers was smaller than this and they could fit just fine.

“Can you lie down with me for a while?” He scooted over to the edge and turned on his side, facing Cas.

Cas smiled and towed off his shoes before pulling the blankets back and fitting himself on the narrow hospital bed next to Dean. Dean waited until he got comfortable before nuzzling closer, shifting around until his head was resting on Cas’s shoulder and their bodies were touching from tip to tow.

He belatedly remembered that maybe he should be worried about having another nightmare and shuddered, suddenly afraid. “I got you.” Cas mumbled onto Dean’s hair. He didn’t sound as confident as before but the words were still spoken in the same tender and loving tone Dean was used to.

“Thank you.” he whispered before allowing himself to drift into sleep, Cas’s steady, albeit raised heartbeat under his ear and his long fingers tangling into Dean’s hair and dragging over scalp, coaxing away the last day’s misery and grief. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really appreciate any comments :)))))


	25. Red Sky At Morning

Cas looked down at Dean’s head on his shoulder and his arms reflexively tightened around his frame. Things had been going so well between them and then, just as they were both starting to relax into it, it just came crushing down again. Cas could usually find it in himself to be a little bit more positive, more confident when things got bad but this time he was just exhausted. It felt too real. What if he hadn’t come when he did? What if it had been worse? What if Dean grew to hate him?

When Dean said that he didn’t want to see him, it sounded like he meant it. Not only that, it sounded like he was pleading, begging for Cas not to make him and it had hurt. Logically, Cas knew, when Dean said so, he was too out of it to realize what was happening; Dean admitted so himself. Logically had nothing on sentimentally though and Cas couldn’t help thinking that there might have been a part of Dean that meant it. What if their relationship was doing more harm than good?

Ever since they were fifteen years old, when Cas finally gathered the courage and kissed Dean for the first time, they had been together. It had been nothing more than an awkward press of lips, Cas too shy and insecure to look at Dean afterwards but Dean… Dean had sighed like this what he had been waiting for all along. After that, there wasn’t really any question about them and they’d gone through everything together and they just _fit_. Cas could make Dean smiled without even trying to and Dean could love him without it hurting him but it wasn’t like this anymore. Maybe… maybe it just wasn’t worth it anymore.

Cas stopped that train of thought immediately. He buried his nose into Dean’s hair and was almost stunned when Dean borrowed even closer to him. Cas could feel Dean’s fingers curled around his shirt as if to him there and his leg thrown over Cas’s and… they still _fit_ together.

It came as a surprise realizing this again. Despite all they had been through, both together and apart and then together again. Despite all the rough edges between them, they were still able to fit together even in the worst of times. Cas thought back on six months ago, on the first time Dean told he loved him after too many years. How guilty Dean sounded as he admitted it, how the words came out like Dean was pleading for Cas to believe him and Cas instantly did.

Cas never stopped loving Dean and on most days, it was easy to believe the same about Dean. On most days, it was easy to think that they were doing well, that they were finally getting somewhere close to normal but the thing was… it wasn’t about the good days. It was about still believing in all of this in the bad days as well. It was about looking down at Dean right now, seeing the image of him lying on his bedroom floor, curled into himself with his hands covering his ears like he was trying to block out inexistent noise and believing that he could still help… that Dean could still love him.

He could hear the steady beeping coming from the heart monitor, he could see how proof of how relaxed Dean was when they were lying like this and it slowly became easier to believe it again. He didn’t like doubting himself—doubting _them_ —but he also thought it was next to impossible not to sometimes. But then, as he looked at Dean and replayed in his head every time Dean had said he loved him, the doubts slowly started dissipating and his trust in them slowly started growing.

Cas thought back on how happy they both had been during the past few weeks, even after Jess dying and Sam being a wreck. He thought back on how easier making Dean smile was getting and how happy doing so made him. He hugged Dean closer and he thought, maybe their relationship was doing more good than harm.

Cas smiled, a little hesitantly at the realization and even though he felt tired, he didn’t want to fall asleep. A few minutes later, he heard a soft knock on the door and then Crowley came in, sipping a cup of coffee. He walked across the room and took a seat on Dean’s left side so Cas could look at him without jostling Dean.

“You know I’m going to ask.” He said quietly and Cas rolled is eyes but he was still grateful for everything Crowley had done during the past few hours.

“I’m doing better now.” Cas said, just as quietly even though Dean looked very dead to the world.

“You were pretty shaken up.” Crowley pointed out carefully.

It was the truth really. Cas was always able to coax Dean back during or after a panic attack or an episode so when he called Crowley he was practically frantic for some sort of advice. “Yeah.”

His friend regarded him carefully for a few moments. “You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I was a little freaked out but… it’s worth it—us being together. I think it’s worth it.”

Crowley smiled although he was hiding behind his coffee cup. “I’m glad you think so. By the way, Dean will have a few days off after he’s released tomorrow. He will also have to go through a psych eval from a SWAT psychiatrist.” He sounded apologetic but Dean wasn’t a big fan of evaluations anyways.

“How come?” Cas asked absently.

“This admission will go into his records.” He paused for a few seconds before continuing. “Have you ever discussed a job with lower risk factors?”

Cas looked up, turning his full attention to Crowley. “I’m not gonna tell him to quit his job, he loves what he does and he’s good at it.” Cas might love Dean’s job less—a lot less—but that didn’t mean he didn’t respect it. He knew the kind of satisfaction it gave Dean and Cas could never dream of taking that away from him.

“Of course but… it could be easier.”

“This is what he knows how to do Crowley. This is what he loves to do. Wouldn’t you say becoming a marriage counselor would probably be easier than what you do now?”

“Probably.” Crowley agreed reluctantly.

“It’s… I hate what he does. I hate it and it keeps me up at night. I see the bruises he gets when the KEVLAR vest blocks the bullets if someone shoots at him and all I can think is, what if the bullet was two inches lower? But… I can’t take this away from him.”

“Okay.” Crowley nodded. He sounded convinced but tired, too.

“You can go home if you want.”

“Yeah… I think I’ll go but I’ll come back tomorrow morning, okay?” he sighed and stood up, walking to the door.

“Thanks for… for everything Crowley.”

“That’s what friends are for. Don’t forget it though, okay?”

“Forget what?”

“You said it’s worth it. Don’t forget that feeling, okay?”

Cas didn’t know what to say for a minute. He didn’t think his freak-out was written on his face but Crowley was right, as usual. “I won’t.”

“Good. Because he won’t either.”

******

Cas let himself sleep about an hour after Crowley left but it was a fitful sleep and by the time he woke up, before seven in the morning, he felt just as tired as he had before falling asleep. He didn’t linger on that though, because Dean was already awake, his fingers stroking through Cas’s hair.

“Hey.” Dean rasped. Cas winced at how raw Dean’s voice still sounded. When he’d found him earlier, he had been quietly sobbing but when he wrapped his arms around Dean as he waited for the ambulance, the sobs felt like they were guttural.

“Hey.” He said back eventually. He knew it would probably take him a few days to get those images out of his head. “Have you been up long?”

“Maybe an hour. I was thinking.”

“Good things?”

Dean pursed his lips, leaned closer to press them against Cas’s temple. Cas closed his eyes and sighed because even though he had managed to comfort Dean last night, he still felt pretty out of it himself. “I’ll tell you when I decide.”

“Okay.” Cas mumbled, tipping his head to the side so he could deliver a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean melted into it, pressing back wholeheartedly and Cas tightened his arms around him.

“And you?” Dean asked, once they pulled back.

“I… you’d tell me, right? If this… if you didn’t want it anymore.” Cas asked quietly. He knew it wasn’t the best time to breach the subject and he didn’t feel as uncertain anymore but he still needed to hear it from Dean.

Dean flinched at Cas’s question. “I’m so sorry for ever making you think that I couldn’t want it.” Dean didn’t sound as desperate as he had last night but he did sound more convincing.

“It’s not—”

“I know, but I can still be sorry about it.”

*******

Dean was discharged in the afternoon and Cas drove him home. He had already left the hospital for a few hours to move the last boxes from Dean’s apartment so Dean wouldn’t have to go back immediately if he didn’t want to. He had brought the box with his medals and uniform as well but had shoved it behind all the others, keeping it carefully hidden for the time being.

When they got home, they ordered dome dinner before settling in on the couch together to watch some TV. Cas wrapped his arm over Dean’s shoulders and Dean leaned against him and it felt oddly normal—way too normal after the last 48 hours but Cas tried not to think too hard on it.

When they headed upstairs to sleep, that was when Cas noticed it. Now that Dean wasn’t as exhausted as yesterday, he avoided closing his eyes for as long as he could. Cas couldn’t blame him really but he did shift closer, leaving the touching part up to Dean. Dean went against it but eventually his breathing slowed down and Cas wasn’t too far behind.

******

Cas didn’t usually have nightmares and the ones he had, didn’t compare to Dean’s. He never woke up screaming from them, or was afraid to go back to sleep; they did leave with a particular brand of uneasiness though. He usually snapped his eyes open at some point in the night, during his nightmare and then he’d look around just to make sure everything was in place before dropping dead to the world again.

This time though, the uneasiness was stronger. He had a dream about Dean leaving him, telling him that he didn’t want to hurt anymore and it had al felt so real in his dream. Cas woke with a start and that was the time he realized when Dean meant he had trouble making a distinction between dreams and reality sometimes.

When Cas turned to look at Dean though, to make sure he was still there, he found Dean looking back at him. It didn’t seem like he had just had a bad dream or even just woken up; it seemed like he had been lying like this for a while.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” Dean whispered, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room and Cas was too disorientated to argue or to even think that he should probably say something.

******

When Cas woke up the next morning, he found Dean at the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee that looked to have gone cold and blankly staring at the wall. He looked like he as thinking so Cas didn’t interrupt. Dean didn’t mention anything about last night and Cas couldn’t tell whether or not it actually happened because it was even fuzzier in the morning.

At some point, Dean left for his session with Crowley, which run twice as long as usual and when he came back, he wordlessly joined Cas on the couch. Cas looked away from the book he was reading but Dean wasn’t even looking at him; he was merely clutching Cas’s thigh with his hand like he wanted to keep him there. Cas wanted to assure him but, again, he didn’t think he should interrupt what was going on in Dean’s head.

******

Two days later, Dean had his evaluation appointment. Cas had to leave to go to the hospital for the morning shift but he asked Dean how he was doing before leaving.

“I think it’s gonna go well.” Dean mumbled neutrally. He didn’t sound confident but he didn’t sound nervous and for the first time since they started this between them, six months ago, Cas had no idea what he was supposed to do.

He knew he had to leave though, because he had already gotten his colleagues to cover the last two of his shifts and he shouldn’t leave them hanging for the third one. He minutely contemplated walking to kiss Dean goodbye and, up until one week ago, he would have done so without even thinking about it but now, he decided against it.

******

He came home that night and Dean didn’t mention the evaluation but there was a doctor’s slip on the kitchen table, clearing him to go back to work.

******

By the forth day, Cas was starting to worry. Dean constantly looked like he was on the verge of saying something but always decided against it and then continued to burry himself in his thoughts until they had to go to sleep. Then, when they went to bed, Dean carefully lied down so he was close to Cas but not touching him and… and he hadn’t done that since the nights following that horrible nightmare. Cas really didn’t want to think this as that nightmare but the more time passed, the more uncertain he felt about everything.

He thought he had made his peace; sure, it wasn’t a very steady peace but it was a peace nonetheless. Now though, Dean wouldn’t talk to him and he started to doubt again. He tried to remember what Crowley had said and he tried to be patient but it was getting more and more difficult every time Dean didn’t look at him.

It was clear they were walking on eggshells around each other. Cas didn’t know if it was intentional on Dean’s part because Dean looked like he just couldn’t help it. Now, Cas could tell Dean wasn’t getting too much sleep but what scared him even more than that was that he couldn’t hear Dean waking up.

That night, Dean was spacing out even more and when he got into bed next to Cas he pulled the covers up to his chin, like he was trying to protect himself. Cas was used to Dean always talking to him about everything and that was why this felt so much more difficult. He didn’t know why Dean opted to keep it to himself this time but no matter what the case, Cas had to everything he could.

Cas leaned over his nightstand and turned on the lights before throwing back to the covers. He walked to the door, ignoring Dean’s curious looks and turned the knob so the door was locked. He took a couple of steps back and eyed it carefully before moving to push the small dresser in front of it.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked carefully once Cas got back to bed.

Cas shrugged, turned off the main light but left on of the small lamps on. “Is it better like this?” he asked instead.

Dean looked like he was fighting with himself over what to say but he eventually scooted closer to Cas under the covers. “Yeah.” He urged Cas to turn on his side with his back to Dean with his hand. “It is so much better.” He whispered, hesitantly throwing his arm over Cas’s side. “I’m sorry I’ve acting like this lately.”

Cas thought about letting it go but he shook his head. “Just promise me you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” His voice sounded shaky and his breath caught when Dean pressed a kiss on his nape.

“I promise.”

Cas felt himself relax at that and even though there was still some empty space between them, and things were too far from fixed, he had to admit Dean was right; this was so much better.

******

The more Cas watched Dean, and he had to admit, during this past week he had been doing so a lot, the more confident he felt that this was just a slump on the road. Dean was still too quiet and they still pushed the dresser in front of the bedroom door and left the light on but Dean was starting to touch Cas again—not throughout the day but even the small contact point between them when they went to bed made Cas feel better.

Cas privately though that now that the memories of the panic attach weren’t so fresh, everything was starting to really sink in. Not only the events leading up to it but also the hospital stay and maybe all the _what-ifs_. Cas himself was trying to fight all of these off because he still felt shaky enough as it was but he knew it was important for Dean. And Dean had promised he would talk to him once he was ready so Cas tried not to push and instead be thankful for what he had.

******

It was two torturous weeks later, after Dean had gotten back to work and they had unpacked most of his things that Cas felt like something was giving. They went to bed that night and Dean still pushed the dresser in front of the door but he didn’t leave the light on and, when he lied next to Cas, he didn’t leave any room between them.

“I’m getting there, okay?” He mumbled sleepily, nuzzling at Cas’s nape.

“Okay. I’m here though.” And really, the only thing Cas could do was hope Dean knew that.

 

 


	26. On The Head Of A Pin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a little bit late but it was a little bit tricky to write and then i got swamped in coursework so... but its here now so enjoy :))))))
> 
> And make sure to comment ;)

The first few days after leaving the hospital, when he was starting to realize everything that had happened, Dean felt like he was drifting. Like he was just a spectator in his everyday life, like he didn’t have any control over what happened to him. He went to his sessions and he went to bed and he woke up and ate but he still felt powerless. Really, that was what he hated the most.

He felt like everything he had worked for had been ripped away from him and he didn’t—couldn’t have—stopped it. He didn’t want to close his eyes because he was afraid of what would happen if he had even lees control; he was afraid to touch Cas because he was afraid of his reactions, because he couldn’t control them; he was afraid to talk to him because he couldn’t control what Cas was going to say. He was just afraid… more afraid than he remembered being in a long time.

Crowley helped a little, tried to let Dean convince himself that things weren’t slipping away but Dean thought about how a good time in his life had backfired terribly and he couldn’t trust him. Crowley didn’t give up though; he just pressed harder. He suggested to Dean that he made lists of thing he thought he could and couldn’t control and then went over them with him, providing his input and a different perspective. It made Dean feel slightly better but not enough.

Sammy tried. Dean hadn’t told him what happened, just that he had an episode and stressed out a lot over their dad. He wasn’t sure Sammy was convinced but he went with it. He dragged Dean out to lunch, carried entire conversations on his own and just let Dean stare at him. Dean thought Sammy looked a lot better. He didn’t seem as exhausted or resigned; he still obviously missed Jessica, his eyes turning a little sad whenever he remembered or talked about her but it was nothing like those days right after her death. Dean liked seeing Sammy like this and then Sammy helped, a little bit more.

Castiel though…. Feeling like this, getting lost in his routine and his life was awful but Dean wasn’t under any illusions that it wasn’t affecting Cas. Cas, who was always ready to comfort Dean, to offer anything and everything at a complete disregard for his own needs. That was one of the reason Dean fell in love with him; it was also one of the reasons he worried so much about how this relationship was affecting Cas.

Cas always put others before himself and he rarely asked for things. He took them when they were offered but didn’t ask them for himself. And when Dean was falling apart, Cas didn’t ask Dean to talk to him either. Dean thought that must have been torture for him; he could see Cas fighting with himself over what he should do or say. That was almost just as worse as the helplessness of drifting.

Cas noticed Dean wasn’t sleeping and just pushed a dresser in front of the door without even making a big deal out of it, like he was just handing Dean an extra blanket. He turned on the light so Dean could feel safe and he never pushed, sleeping resolutely on his side of the bed. Dean couldn’t bring himself to so much as talk to him and Cas still tried to make things easier for Dean. He realized he couldn’t control Cas and he couldn’t control the way Cas felt for him but he loved him so that couldn’t be bad.

He started feeling a little bit better after realizing that. He was still a little lost in his own body but he felt like Cas could anchor him to reality. So, Dean started touching Cas sometimes, lightly and fleetingly but it made everything feel more real. Cas was solid and warm next to him in bed and, after a few nights, Dean didn’t hesitate resting his forehead against Cas’s nape and brushing his lips over the sensitive skin.

“I’m getting there, okay?” he whispered, the words thick in his mouth.

He felt Cas nod, hesitantly tangling his fingers with Dean’s on his stomach. “Okay. I’m here though.”

******

Dean glared at the black velvet boxes and the shattered picture frame. He didn’t feel like they were hurting him this time; instead, he was a little detached from them. When he looked at the metal and the ribbons and the picture of his dad of photos from his unit he wasn’t swamped with sadness and disappointment and guilt. He still felt responsible—he thought he always would—but it didn’t feel as suffocating this time.

He grabbed them and took them out of the box before he could lose his nerve. Cas had gotten back from the hospital about an hour ago and he looked exhausted but Dean remembered what Cas had said a week ago, about being here, and he walked down the stairs to join him in the living room.

Cas looked up when he heard him walk in and smiled but he stopped once he saw what Dean was holding. “Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Dean couldn’t blame him. He didn’t feel so out of place now but things between him and Cas were still strained at times. He thought Cas had done so much for him—for them—and it was time for Dean to try and fix this. “Yeah.” He walked over to the sofa and took a seat next to Cas, folding one leg underneath himself so he could sit facing Cas.

Cas still looked worried; Dean guiltily wondered when was the last time he hadn’t seen him worried. Too long ago probably and really, Cas deserved better than that. Dean raised his hand to cup the back of Cas’s neck, slowly dragging him forward so he could kiss him. They had kissed a few times in the last few days but Dean made a conscious effort to pour everything he felt for Cas into that kiss. He thought it was impossible but worth the effort, combing his fingers through Cas’s hair and gently sucking on his tongue. He put the things he was holding in his lap so he could use his other hand to stroke over Cas’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over the frown lines marring his forehead.

It took a few minutes but eventually Cas relaxed into it, allowing himself to touch Dean back, hands clutching at his waist like he was afraid Dean would let him go. Dean pressed closer in response; he didn’t like it when Cas felt that way.

When they pulled apart, Dean’s eyes centered on Cas’s lips, usually chapped and pale, having turned bright red. This was how Cas made Dean feels sometimes. He made him smile, made him remember what it was like to be happy even when Dean was miserable and hurting and wanted to be left alone.

“I want to tell you what happened that day.” he said clearly; they had both learned that this wasn’t going to work without communication—courtesy of Crowley’s.

Cas shook his head, still grinning a little stupidly. “Yeah.” He sounded breathless. It made Dean feel both better and worse; better because he had done that with a kiss and worse because he had done that _just_ with a kiss.

Dean couldn’t help smiling a little, even as he picked up the first medal case and flipped it open, showing Cas the gold heart hanging from the purple ribbon. “I got this because I was shot when they kidnapped us.” They couldn’t give it to him because he had gotten tortured because that wasn’t considered as “in the line of fire”. He craned his neck to the side and showed Cas a thick line of raised skin running across the side of his neck.

Cas hesitantly lifted his hand, eyes darting to Dean’s to make sure he was okay before gently running the pads of his fingers over the shiny scar tissue. Dean shivered, not because it was bad but because it was real. Somehow, talking about this with Cas made it real enough that it couldn’t hurt him anymore in his own head.

When Cas leaned closer to brush his lips and run his tongue over it, Dean gasped, his hand unconsciously moving to clutch at Cas’s shoulder. He didn’t move away though and he stopped Cas when he tried to. Cas had kissed and licked at almost every other scar on Dean’s body and he had made them all okay; maybe he could make this okay as well.

Cas shifted to press a kiss on his lips before moving to sit back and let Dean continue. “This is” he opened the other box, showed Cas the green and white star with the red ribbon. “given for of exceptional service.” He didn’t elaborate because they hadn’t elaborated when they’d given it to him. They’d just said how his service was outstanding and his dedication exemplary. Hearing it felt empty then and it still felt empty now.

Cas didn’t try to touch it—Dean wasn’t sure why he thought he would—so he pulled the lid shut, placed it behind him on the couch next to the other case and showed Cas a photograph. “This is from my second tour.” He pointed out Chavez and Travis and Frederick and all the other guys he was responsible for. “Eight of them are dead.” He said evenly; there were only ten men in the picture.

Cas didn’t say anything but his eyes got this terrible hallow look in them—the same one they got after a bad shift in the ER—and he put his arm over Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Dean cleared his throat again, put the picture aside and picked up the one where his father and him were dressed in fatigues in front of a river. Originally, he had thought it was the picture that set him off but now, looking at it, there is nothing special about it. He didn’t look happy, John looked drunk and the only thing remotely nice was the forest around them.

“This is from the hunting trip.” He simply said while all he heard in his head was _“Take it out of its’ misery.”_.

Cas’s lips turned into a thin line and he looked like he was more heavily affected by this picture than everything else. He turned to rest his forehead against Dean’s temple, pressing his lips onto his hairline. It felt like Cas was the one who needed to be comforted and Dean was than happy to give him that.

He coaxed Cas into turning around, mirroring Dean’s position on the couch and carded his fingers through his soft hair. He noted it had gotten longer and made a mental note to remind Cas to cut it because he always forgot. Cas buried his face into Dean’s neck, nails digging harshly into his shoulder. Dean could probably tell what he was thinking; what if Dean had been one of the eight who were dead. He rubbed soothing circles onto Cas’s back because that was the only thing he could think of; because that was what Cas did to him and it always made him feel better.

When Cas pulled himself up, he looked more composed but still shaken up. Dean let his hand rest in his hair as he kept going. “I don’t like looking at them because they remind me of where I failed, of where I went wrong. These guys, they were counting on me and I let them down. And now they’re dead.” He could feel the familiar floating catching up to him and he forced himself to focus on Cas. “I know it’s not logical and I’ve been working through it but I can’t help but feel guilty every time I see what I have and what they don’t.” his voice felt thick and it cracked a coupe od times but he managed to finish.

Cas’s eyes were soft where they were looking into his own and Dean could tell he wanted to say so many things; he wanted to convince Dean that it wasn’t his fault. It didn’t work like that though and Cas couldn’t fix this. Dean didn’t think this could ever be fixed. It had certainly gotten better; he wasn’t having nightmares anymore about his friend shooting him between his eyes but it still felt haunting.

“I look…” Dean had to will the words from between his lips because he needed to finish this. “I look at the picture of me and my father and I remember how I let you down.” He wanted to look away but he didn’t; he needed Cas to see him. “I remember how I never wanted to be anything like him but I sorta ended being anyways.”

Cas frowned. “Dean—”

Dean moved a finger over Cas’s lips. “Please let me finish. I don’t think I’m like him, not now. I know I hurt you and I hurt myself and some of the hurt is never going to go away. I know that but I also know that I want to do better; for you and for me and for us. I want to be able to give you what you deserve.” He swallowed. “I felt like I had nothing left when I was having the panic attack that day.  I felt like I had given everything away for nothing but I know now that I have you and I have Sammy and I have friends who care.” He leaned closer, replacing his finger with his lips. “And I am not like him. I will make you happy, Cas.” His voice sounded desperate to his own ears but he felt like he needed to say that. His father wasn’t making their mother happy by the end and Dean knew the analogy wasn’t really apt but he still needed it to be true.

Cas sagged against him when he finished, crushing Dean’s lips with his own and breathing raggedly as he kissed him. He tasted every bit as desperate as Dean sounded. His cheeks felt wet and by the end, they weren’t kissing so much as sharing breath while Dean held Cas through fits of quiet sobbing. Cas never cried loudly; Dean had never asked him why but he was always so quiet and it was almost as bad as the actual crying.

He knew Cas was mumbling something but he couldn’t make it out until he put his hands on either ide of Cas’s face and forced him to look up at him. “You already do.” Cas kept saying.

Dean breathed out in relief and led Cas up to their bedroom with patient hands and soothing words. The shift in their dynamic was unusual but Dean felt settled into it. He could still imagine a time where neither of them would need this and look forward to it because he knew it was coming.

He had Cas sit on their bed and helped him take off his clothes, leaving only his underwear before proceeding to do the same with his own. They climbed in underneath the covers and Dean coaxed Cas’s body to lie half on top of his, with Cas’s head resting on his shoulder and his leg thrown over both of Dean’s.

Dean didn’t even bother with the dresser or the night that night; Cas’s body next to his was enough to make him safe.

******

Things felt more settled after that, their relationship more tangible. Dean still had extra appointments with Crowley for the next couple of weeks and Cas was still a little weary around him but Dean felt… confident. It wasn’t the same kind as before though. Before, he was afraid of the increasingly likely prospect of things working out and his being happy. He didn’t want to believe it because that would make it so _easy_ for someone to take it away—and they almost did. But the thing was, Dean took it right back and he wanted it now. He wanted like he hadn’t before.

For a long time, he thought that being happy, getting better meant getting back to the person he used to be. He believed that for too long of a time, he believed it strongly enough that he often lost sight of who he really was now. Because, truthfully, he couldn’t be the person he was back then and he couldn’t have Cas they way he did before. He felt like that should bother him but as he looked at Cas sitting next to him on the sofa, watching some boring ass history documentary on TV, it really didn’t.

For the first time in what seemed like too long, he knew he couldn’t be his old self but he believed he could be happy again as this self. This self was good enough to love Cas in ways the old self couldn’t even fathom. It wasn’t afraid to try or unwilling to work for what he wanted. Maybe this self could—no, this self was _already_ making him happy.

He poked at Cas’s stomach with his toes to get his attention. “Hey.” He tried what that didn’t work. Apparently the documentary about the discovery of the New World was that interesting. “Cas.” He nudged at him, this time, making Cas turn around, scowling a little at being interrupted.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to poke Cas again, just because he could but Cas’s fingers closed around his ankle. Cas’s hold was tight, almost constricting but his skin felt warm and reassuring. Dean craned his neck to the side, squinting as he watched Cas watching him.

“Yeah?” Cas prompted when Dean didn’t say anything. His hair was tussled in the way it got when he hadn’t used hair gel or bothered to comb it. His jaw was covered in a few days old stubble and he was wearing a ratty pair of sweats that was starting to fade from countless washing cycles.

Dean smiled to himself in a way that he had nearly forgotten. He used his free leg and poked at Cas again this time aiming for his hip. “Wanna go to bed?”

Cas narrowed his eyes in confusion. “It’s not even eight yet.”

Dean took a moment to feel guilty that bed instantly translated to sleep for Cas because of him. It was only for a second though because he couldn’t fix but he would make it better. “Bed.” He tried to make sure he sounded confident because they hadn’t tried anything since Dean’s panic attack and even though he felt as sure as he ever had, there was a part of him that still worried. Then again, he supposed that part would always be there and there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now.

It was almost funny, the way Cas’s eyes turned wide or his fingers gripped at Dean’s ankle as he realized what Dean meant. “Are… what…”

“Let’s go, Cas.” Dean said, more certain this time. He slowly pulled his leg away and Cas let him go willingly, still gaping in surprise. It shot another ping of guilt through Dean. “I mean… if you want to?” he thought to add, even if he could now dim the voice doubting him for the most part.

Cas’s eyebrows shot up but he reached out and took Dean’s hand, standing up from the couch. “Come on.” he mumbled, voice rough and led Dean to their bedroom.

When they walked inside, it was Dean who turned on the lights—not all of them—but enough to be able to see each other clearly. They stood in the middle of the room, a couple of feet from the bed, looking at each other and Dean couldn’t help feeling a little baffle that they’d gone through all of this to end up right back in the same place, just the two of them, trying to work through life as adults where they used to be teenagers navigating the hardships high school threw at them.

“Can I…” Dean brought his hand up and cupped the back of Cas’s neck drawing him closer. He didn’t know why he felt the need to ask but he thought it was important.

When Cas’s eyes met his, they seemed dazed, like Cas was thinking of the same thing and couldn’t believe it. “Yes.” He breathed out, eyes fluttering closed as Dean leaned in to brush his lips over Cas’s. Dean felt like this should be more monumental, something that he would always remember but their first kiss wasn’t and the first time they had sex wasn’t and the first time they had said the three words and made love wasn’t and he still managed to remember every single one of them so maybe this was okay.

He dragged his nose across Cas’s cheek, surprised at how soft his stubble felt before pressing a kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth, and then, when he felt surer, on his lips. Cas’s breath hitched and his hands came to rest on Dean’s hips, pulling him closer, flush against his body.

It was easy to forget about everything else and get lost in the way Cas’s mouth fit against his, or the way Cas’s tongue slid across his own. It hadn’t felt like that for Dean in frankly too long and he allowed himself to sink into it, nudging Cas towards the bed without pulling away. They landed half on top on each other and Dean shifted so he was laying over Cas, kneeling between his thighs. He could feel Cas’s erection pressing into his hip and he grinded into it, surprised to find that he was hard too. He almost hadn’t expected it, the sensation still somewhat foreign but he was getting better at enjoying it.

Cas tentatively reached out and smoothed his hand over Dean’s heart, down his side to rest on his waist and pull him closer. His thighs tightened around Dean’s hips as if to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere and Dean had to lean back then so he could look down at him. Cas’s normally pale skin was flustered, his lips shinny and red in a way Dean had forgotten they could turn into and his hair a wild mess where Dean had run his hands through. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, nuzzling at Cas’s ear.

Cas gasped, hips hitching to follow through with Dean’s movement and this, this was the part Dean loved best about sex. How he could make Cas react to him. He loved the way kissing could turn Cas’s composure inside out and how coming would turn him into an incoherent puddle of goo. Dean loved him like that but he loved how Cas could make him feel as well. He moved away, regretfully, and took off his shirt before reaching out and doing the same with Cas’s.

Cas’s hands latched onto his sides like they couldn’t bear not to and not because Dean still needed the reassurance and Dean found himself whimpering, burying his face into Cas’s neck. It always amazed him how he could still feel it when Cas hands stroked over his scared skin, returning long ago forgotten sensation. It wasn’t any different this time as Cas coaxed desperate sounds out of Dean just by touching his chest or his back.

Dean felt Cas’s muscles working just for a seconds before he realized he was being flipped over so he was the one lying on his back, with Cas over him. He thought the abrupt swift in momentum should probably make him anxious but he only felt more comfortable instead. Cas was looming over him but smiling kindly like he couldn’t believe he got to have this, like _he_ was the lucky one. Dean wanted to open his mouth and tell him that he wasn’t really, that Dean was getting the better end of the bargain but the air left his lungs as soon as Cas wrapped his lips around his nipple. He was idly aware of a hand messing around his zipper but he couldn’t focus on anything, torn between too many sensations.

Finally, Cas gave an exasperated huff and pulled away so he could take off Dean’s jeans and Dean whined as cold hair hit the spit-slicked skin. He didn’t fight it though and he nodded when Cas look up at him, fingers hooked into Dean’s underwear. It felt different when he was naked and Cas was half dressed but he didn’t have time to worry about that either because Cas stood up and took care of his own clothes in just a few seconds.

Dean felt his mouth go a little dry as his eyes roamed over Cas’s body, even though he had seen it countless times before. The planes of his skin never failed to surprise Dean and the smoothness of it made him want to run his tongue over every inch of it. “C’mere.” He reached out, pulled Cas back onto the bed and between his spread thighs. The position made him feel slightly vulnerable but Cas’s body over his more than made up for it, shielding him away and keeping him warm.

Cas smiled down at him before pressing his palms onto Dean’s sides, dragging them upwards and under Dean’s arms, coming to grasp his wrists and move them over Dean’s head. Dean felt his heart start to race but Cas’ hold was loose and instantly gone as soon as he’d places his wrists where he’d wanted to. “Cas…” Dean mumbled even though he wasn’t sure what he meant to say but he didn’t move his hands either.

Cas leaned down, starting with biting kisses onto Dean’s collarbones and moving down his chest, alternating between sucking and nibbling before smoothing the marks over with his tongue. His mouth kept edging lower and Dean thought he should probably stop him because he had plans but Cas eventually wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and every coherent thought in his head just abandoned him.

“Fuck.” He hissed as Cas lightly pressed his tongue into Dean’s slit. Dean was sure, if he looked down right now, Cas would be grinning smugly. Cas wrapped one hand around the base of Dean’s erection and started jacking him slowly, his other hand rubbing soothing circles onto his hip and Dean really wasn’t going to last long like this.

When Cas grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin, he finally snapped out of it. “Wait, wait, wait.” He muttered frantically, Cas pulling off instantly.

“Are—”

“I wanted to try something else.” He managed to say between ragged breaths before Cas could ask him if he was okay.

Cas looked taken aback for a moment but he shrugged. “Okay?” he said, albeit a little hesitant.

Dean smiled, shifted so he was siting up and pressed a kiss onto Cas’s swollen lips. He cold taste himself in Cas’s mouth and he thought tasting precome on someone’s tongue would never turn him on again but it did, making his cock impossibly harder. He pulled away apologetically and turned around so he could stretch over the mattress and get to the nightstand. It took a little bit of snooping around and he was pretty sure Cas was ogling at his ass but he eventually found what he was looking for, handing it to Cas with a triumphant smile.

Cas looked down at the tube of clear lube and then back at Dean and over again a couple of times, as if he was trying to figure out how everything worked. “Are you sure?” he asked tentatively, voice too soft.

Dean smiled because yeah, he was nervous as fuck but he thought, even though a perfect time would never come, this would as close as it got. “Only if you want to.” He found himself mumbling. They’d always talked about this on Dean’s terms and the last thing he wanted was to force this on Cas.

“I want to. I do. But…” he pursed his lips, running the tube between his palms. “are you sure?” he asked again, clearer this time. His eyes pierced through Dean’s, looking for the faintest hint that he was lying.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” His voice wavered a little but whatever Cas was looking for, maybe he didn’t find it because he shifted closer again and kissed Dean until he physically couldn’t feel nervous anymore. Until he was too pliant to do anything but clutch at Cas to hold him close. He looked desperate but he felt it as well. Now that he had finally said the words out loud, anticipation that had been building up for months was starting to topple over. Tension he knew he had been carrying around but was unable to shake off was starting to bleed out of him and all he could think about was how he couldn’t ever wish to do this with someone else.

Dean had long ago lost himself into the quite sounds of their kissing and the glide of their bodies together, now slick with a thin layer of sweat when Cas moved away to whisper into his ear. “Do you want to turn over for me?” he asked gently, his thump stroking over Dean’s hipbone.

Dean didn’t know if he wanted to and he had no idea what Cas was going to do. He thought he was over this but memories still crept into his head, violating and ruthless all over again but he could tune them out this time. He had done this with Cas before—before anything else and as much as he didn’t trust himself sometimes or what he saw, he trusted Cas.

“Okay.” His voice was trembling and he cleared his throat to mask it, even though he didn’t know why he even bothered around Cas.

Cas didn’t mention it, only sat back on his heels so Dean could turn over on his stomach. It felt foreign but familiar at the same time, as well as scary and exciting and he kept jumping between the different feelings until he felt Cas’s hand press into his shoulders. That was the only part of Cas he could feel really, his palms rubbing over his tense muscles and down the spread of his back, digging into hard and soft skin alike. Cas seemed intent on working all the knots out of Dean’s body and Dean let him, practically melting onto the sheets. He closed his eyes and focused on the drag of Cas’s rough fingers over his spine because it felt okay to do so.

By the time Cas was satisfied, his hands coming to rest on the bottom of Dean’s spine, Dean was too fucked out t even bother tensing up. “How are you doing?” Cas asked, breath ghosting over the shell of Dean’s ear, making him shiver.

“Good.” He rasped, suspired by how honest it felt. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” He mumbled happily and his lips started moving downwards, brushing the protruding knobs of Dean’s spine and then his ribs, all the way down to the small of his back. His hands rubbed up and down his thighs, slowly wheedling him to spread his legs a little. It wasn’t enough for Cas to fit between them but his muscles didn’t feel as tense or locked together anymore.

Dean grabbed a pillow from the headboard and started clutching it because Cas’s hands were trailing lower now, low enough to rest on his ass, kneading tense muscles again. He thought Cas’s hands must be getting tired but now, his fingers cramping but he was relentless, rubbing over skin that felt twice as hot. His thumbs sneaked into his crack and his hands stroked outwards, abruptly exposing him to Cas’s warm breath over his hole. The sensation was distantly familiar but now he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. His hands instinctively tightened onto the pillow when he felt Cas shifting closer.

“Do you want me to stop?” Cas asked. He sounded clear and earnest where Dean felt like crawling out of his skin.

But Dean didn’t want him to stop. He couldn’t say he felt good but he knew he didn’t feel bad so he shook his head, face buried into the pillow and hoped Cas understood him.

“Alright.” Cas murmured, his thumbs pressing harder before Dean felt his tongue licking into his crack. He gasped, even though he was expecting it, nerves ending working on overload as tried not to fight Cas off. He could feel Cas was hesitant but also determined. He snaked his hand underneath Dean’s stomach, gripping his hips to keep him steady and pull him closer.

Cas’s tongue was wet and soft as it licked over his rim, soothing the stubborn rigidness and his breath came in sort huffs, contrary to Dean’s surprised gasps. He still couldn’t tell but he could feel everything getting better the longer Cas stayed there, like the foreignness was slowly slipping away.

“Good?” Cas pulled away to ask. His voice sounded rough and Dean involuntarily shifted, realizing for the first time since Cas turned him over that he was still hard, hard enough that he had to start squirming against the sheets.

“Yeah… yeah, you can keep going.” Dean forced out between clenched teeth.

When Cas spread him open and dove in again the strokes of his tongue were firmer and Dean stopped doubting this. He unclenched his teeth and turned his head to the side so Cas could hear how short his breaths were and how every kiss Cas pressed this close to him made him whimper. He could hear them too and he didn’t feel embarrassed by them. He liked them for what they did to Cas, how they seemed to fuel him on to go further, pushing both himself and Dean.

Dean had barely registered Cas’s hand leaving him but he felt his slick finger tracing along his tongue. He thought Cas could probably taste the lube coating his finger but he didn’t seem to care, pushing his finger to slip it into Dean next to his tongue. Dean squirmed because he was still not used to this but he pressed back, relaxing as Cas’s finger pumped into him.

“Oh, god…” he breathed out, rocking his hips between Cass finger and the bed, trying to get some friction or some anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this during sex. “Can you…” Cas slowed down, pulling out his tongue but leaving his finger in. “another one?” his voice sounded only a little like he was begging but then Cas started kissing over his back again so Dean stopped caring.

“Yeah” He mumbled, and a few seconds later he gave Dean two fingers. The stretch was a little bit of an effort but it still felt good and then Cas pressed them in just the right away and Dean couldn’t even from coherent thoughts anymore. He could remember why he’d liked this so much in the first place and it still wasn’t the same as before but it was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, fuck!” he yelped when Cas did it again, just once before taking his fingers out and pressing back with three. It was almost too much at first but Cas waited patiently for him, lips brushing over the beck of Dean’s neck while his other hand came around him to start stroking his dick. “A little more lube?” Dean had to ask but that’s all the concession he gives to his paranoia before letting himself sink back into it.

“Of course.” Cas said instantly before squeezing more lube onto his fingers. It was easier this time and after a few thrusts, he was fucking Dean with fingers, pressing on the same spot every time until Dean was twisting away because he knew he would come if Cas kept doing that.

“That’s… that’s enough.” He croaked out, throat suddenly dry. They had probably spent more time on this than ever before but Dean felt loose and practically dripping with lube, turned on enough that he could feel his heart beat on his flushed cock.

“You sure?” that was really the first time Cas sounded uncertain and Dean slowly pulled away so he could turn around and kiss him. He tasted lube and musk and sweat but after a few minutes, it was only Cas and when Dean trailed his hand down Cas’s chest, his cock felt just as hard as his own.

“Yeah.” He smiled. He was sure, surer than he thought he’d be.

Cas returned it, cheeks flushed and hair in complete disarray before guiding Dean to lie on his back. He slicked himself up and leaned over Dean, positioning the head of his cock against Dean’s rim before pushing in. His eyes never left Dean and his cock felt way bigger than his fingers but Cas was relentless. He didn’t let him look away and he slowly rocked his hips, steadily giving Dean inch after inch until his hips were flush against Dean’s ass.

Dean wasn’t sure but he knew there a considerable chance he’d panic as soon as Cas was seated in him. He didn’t though and it was almost disappointing because Cas adjusted Dean’s hips again and it felt too fucking good.

“Okay?” Cas asked him, voice strained. Dean knew it must have been killing to stay this still for so long. He could feel his cock inside him every time he inhaled or shifted just a little and it made Cas gasp every time.

“More than okay.” He managed to say, even though he didn’t feel like forming coherent thoughts. “You can move.” He said encouragingly.

Cas didn’t, not right away. He stroked his clean hand down Dean thigh, stopping under his knee before hitching his leg around his waist. It made him slide even deeper, the head of his cock catching Dean just right.

“Now, Cas, really.” Dean practically hissed, surprised even at himself.

Cas smiled down at him, leaned in to kiss him before finally starting to thrust slowly into him. Dean felt like the world was slipping between his fingers that this could feel like this and he had to clutch at Cas’s shoulders, keeping him close because Cas was solid and still giving this to him, still making him feel this good.

“You’re so beautiful, Dean.” He whispered wetly into his ear and it sounded broken and dirty like he couldn’t believe he actually got to have this, not filthy like he wanted to make Dean beg and humiliate him. Dean was shocked that he could make the distinction and he tightened his thighs around Cas, forcing him deeper into his body. He wanted –he needed—to tell him so many things but he could barely keep his eyes open as it was.

“Fuck, Cas, please, just…something.” He almost cried out, breath leaving him in short hiccupping gasps.

“I got you, Dean.” Cas sounded just as frantic and he finally gave up on the last shreds of control and straight up nailed his hips into Dean, his thrusts hard and biting but also so good Dean couldn’t even believe it. He didn’t remember this being so good but then again, he dint remember loving Cas this much either.

“Do you want me to—”

“No, no, just keep going.” Dean moaned out, reaching with his left over his head to brace against the headboard and his right hand around his dick. He barely touched himself before he came and it almost hurt, messy and all over the both of them.

Cas’s hips stuttered and his eyes squeezed shut, like he was bracing himself and forcing his body to stop.

Dean felt too fucked out for his own good but he reached out and pulled Cas closer to him, hitching his thighs higher and tightening around Cas’s cock. “Come on, Cas, keep going.”

It didn’t take a lot and Cas did. It was rough and overwhelming a little too much but Dean still didn’t want him to stop. “Oh, fuck, jesus…” Cas bit out before driving into Dean one last time and stilling, his dick pulsing inside Dean as he came. Dean moaned around it, tried to bury his words into his shoulder but before he could, Cas crashed their lips together, swallowing everything he had to say. It was lazy and simple yet still managed to convey everything that just happened between them.

“That was…” Cas started when they pulled away, slumped over him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely amazing?” Dean supplied, stretching his legs out and wiggling his tows until he heard bones pop.

Cas chuckled; Dean could still feel the vibrations inside him. “Yeah, that works.” He kissed Dean’s cheek, taking a moment to rub his nose against his temple. “I’m going to pull out, okay?”

He waited for Dean’s nod and this part was just as uncomfortable and squirmy as Dean remembered but he realized he had missed it as well. He had missed Cas’s transfixed look when his eyes traveled down to where they were joined, watching as a few drops of his come leaked out of Dean. Dean blushed under his scrutiny and tried to get away, bring his legs together but Cas didn’t let him.

“You’re so… you don’t even know it.” he smiled warmly at Dean, hands pressing into the insides of his thigh and spreading him open again. “You…I love you so much.” He said longingly, circling Dean’s swollen rim with his thumb as if he tired to push his cum back in.

Dean gasped, felt himself get hot even though he never thought he’d like this part again. He could hear the absolutely filthy sounds Cas’s thumb made, just barely sliding into him before slipping back out. But this, like countless other things, also felt different with Cas.

Cas, like he just realized what he was doing, pulled his hand away as if it was burned. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He started, because Cas was always so careful with him and things were always so sensitive between them. But Dean didn’t want that anymore and he was pretty sure Cas didn’t either.

“It’s okay.” He said quickly. “I like it a little when you get like that.” He mumbled, almost embarrassed but if Cas could do make him love again what he thought he’d lost, then Dean could give him this reassurance.

Cas bit his lip but nodded, coming to collapse beside Dean. Honestly, Dean was surprised that he managed to hold himself up this long. He raised his arm and Dean wiggled to duck under it, resting his head on Cas’s shoulder. “I… did you think it’d be like this?” Dean asked, his voice small.

He could feel Cas shrug under him. “Honestly? No.” the words made his chest rumble. “I didn’t think it’d be this good.” He sounded like he was in wonder and Dean chuckled because that meant he wasn’t alone. He never was. “You?”

“Maybe but not really. I’m still kinda shocked.” He admitted, tracing his fingers over Cas’s heart.

Cas turned and nuzzled his hair, his arm tightening around Dean’s shoulders. “But okay?”

Dean thought about his answer, tried to take inventory but the truth was, he felt… accomplished and that was a strange feeling to have right after having sex but he had it. He had been so tangled up in what they’d taken away from him that he’d thought, when he did this again, he’d get to feel so vindicated because he would have won. He didn’t though; the memories were still always with him and always a part of him and he’d never get to win over them. He had Cas though and as he lied on their bed, smothered by Cas’s love and devotion, he felt like he could accept everything and not like it but maybe coexist with it.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He raised himself on his elbow so he could brush his lips over Cas’s and then hugged him close.

Later, when Dean was turning fidgety, Cas followed him to the bathroom and helped him wash away everything that they’d done. It didn’t feel like a failure even though he was disappointed to see Cas’s mark slipping out of him like it meant nothing. But it was Cas’s hands that scrubbed it away and Cas’s hands that smoothed over Dean’s body so he thought, maybe he didn’t need a mark to belong to him and Cas loved him despite his scars. For the first time after coming back from Iraq, Dean thought he could love himself too, not only despite of his scars but because of them as well.

Afterwards, when hey were lying in bed, Cas wrapped around him cuddly and protective, Dean didn’t think, he knew.

 


	27. Free to Be You And Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... this is pretty much it.
> 
> Believe it or not this was destined to be around 40.000 words long and in the end, i ended up with this 100k monstrosity but what are you gonna do, right?
> 
> I really want to thank everyone who's read this, everyone who's thane the time to comments and say again that it means a lot to me and that i probably wouldn't have pulled this off if it hadn't been for all your positive feedback.
> 
> i honestly hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)))

Dean looked down at the marble tombstone, at the grey and scratched lettering and the weeds decorating the placard, almost viciously swallowing up any means of recognition. He turned his eyes to the other headstones around him, clear and honored, flowers lying on the grass in front of them instead of dirty weeds and felt momentarily guilty. He tried to brush it off because this had been symbolic in the first place and neither him nor Sammy had bothered with it so who the fuck cared?

Their mother, probably. Dean was grateful that she’d been buried at a civilian cemetery and their father at a military one because if his father had decided he wanted to be buried next to her, Dean would have most likely decked him. It was irrational but their mother was too good for him, even in death; maybe he’d soil the ground next to her. It was a morbid thought to have, probably, but Dean had tried, too hard for his own good, to love John like a father and it’d never happened.

He didn’t blame John for what had happened to him. He’d made his own decisions but he knew, if their relationship had been different, if they’d both tried to accept each other a little bit more instead of always judging and glaring in scrutiny, then maybe Dean wouldn’t have felt like he needed to sign up for the war just to show his father that he was a man. Maybe he would have stayed with Cas instead, both of them graduating, Cas becoming a boring research doctor for a Biotech company and Dean a standard engineer, perhaps with a Masters so he could get a well-paying job. Maybe he and Sam would be living hundreds of miles away from each other and only talk on birthdays and holidays. Maybe they’d all have the normal white picket fence, 2.8 kid life they’d dreamt off and been happy.

But Dean looked around again, thought on how much his impulsive decision changed him and those around him and, shockingly, even though he could never completely come to terms with the way he was viciously abused or tormented, he didn’t think he’d change anything. He still had brutal nightmares and dreadful panic attacks, albeit not often, but he had Cas to come home to. He could actually make Cas laugh again, make him happy and that made everything worth it in an illogical yet completely truthful sort of way.

Cas’s and his relationship probably wasn’t the healthiest; too codependent and filled with sorrow sometimes but it was them. Cas wasn’t careful with him anymore, letting words run freely from his mouth instead of constantly censoring and Dean liked that, liked the thought that they didn’t have to tiptoe around each other.

Dean still visited Crowley weekly and every time he wanted to blow off an appointment he had to remind himself where he was and where he is now because he had gotten better but he knew there was still a long way to come. He still had bad days at work, where the cruelty people showed, especially towards their families never ceased to shock him. He could cope with them better now though; whenever he saw the bad parts, he forced himself to look for the good ones as well because every family had both of them.

A few months ago, he found out that Frederick had killed himself in his living room, using his shotgun. Even worse than that was that it had been ten days until somebody found him and that was only because his neighbors complained to the landlord about the smell. It had scared Dean how easily and effortlessly he could imagine himself in Frederick’s shoes and his funeral had shaken him up. So many people had attended, enough that there weren’t enough chairs for everyone but none of them had bothered to see if Frederick was alive before—hell, Dean himself hadn’t and yet, here he was, about three years too late.

He had been able to feel familiar guilt crawl its way all over him and he drove seven hours with no sleep just so he could leave Frederick’s home. Had Frederick even considered it as his home anymore? Dean hadn’t bothered to check. Seeing Frederick after coming back had been too hurtful, bringing back too many thinks that he’d liked to be able to forget. Then though, as he drove back to Chicago in the middle of the night, he couldn’t help but think how Frederick could have been alive if Dean hadn’t ran away.

He’d decided to start volunteering at the VA shelter the next month. At first, he’d thought he’d hate it but it was still something he felt he had to do, like an obligation. Later, he was almost surprised to find that he’d actually started enjoying it. It was the same sense of satisfaction he got from his job and even more perhaps. More because he could feel what the people coming into the shelter did and he was amazed as he saw them pull their lives back together. He could see how he wasn’t too special, how so many people had been where he was and still got out of it and it gave him even more hope.

He didn’t really believe in engagement rings and he couldn’t wear them at work either but he liked what they symbolized. So, one Friday night, after finishing his work at the shelter, he went to a jewelry shop and bought one for Cas. It was simple, just a platinum band and when the salesclerk asked him if he wanted an inscription he said no. He had no idea how to make everything he felt for Cas fit into the inside of a band merely a couple of inches long.

He hadn’t been nervous when giving the ring to Cas, albeit his fingers were shaking just a little bit. He did it just before they went to bed, kneeling on the bedspread next to Cas, presenting the black velvet box to him. Cas, at first had looked surprised, ogling at it for a few minutes, just long enough for Dean to start to get fidgety. Then, he’d smiled and sat up straighter so he could kiss Dean. It had been long and mellow and so intense that it had reminded Dean of their entire relationship presented to him in a single kiss. Dean had slipped the ring on Cas’s finger as soon as they’d pulled apart and then made love to him, thrusting his hips inside Cas until Cas could only mumble incoherently and hold on to Dean.

The ring Cas had given him the next day was pretty much the same but he gave Dean a chain to slip it into.  At first, Dean hadn’t gotten it but a few days later, he took off the too familiar single tag he’d kept around his neck like a shield and replaced with Cas’s ring. It had felt more of a change than it really was but also like a turning point.

They’d chosen to simply go to the courthouse and that was that; they were officially married. It hadn’t made a monumental difference but then Cas’ brothers and Sammy had gotten them wedding presents and Benny had orchestrated an entire “welcome to the Married life” party at the station that Dean was abruptly struck by how normal all this was, how everything was shaping up to turn out.

Where it normally would have scared him, being this happy, this time it gave him confidence instead and it seemed like, that same confidence carried Cas him through every bad day or week. Sometimes, Dean would look at Cas just drinking coffee with him at the kitchen island and he he’d have no idea how he ended being this lucky and somewhere along the way, what had happened to the both of stopped feeling like a price to pay for happiness. Instead, it turned into the road they had to take to get there and so what if their road happened to be a little bit more bumpy?

Feeling optimist was still somewhat of a strange predicament for Dean but he thought he handled it well, smiling faintly as he looked back down at his father’s tombstone. Suddenly, he could feel the weight of his ID tag heavily in his pocket. Originally, he had planned to this quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. Standing here right now though, he didn’t know how he was supposed to say everything he was feeling quickly.

“So…” he started, rocking on the balls of his feet. A sharp gust of wind blew by him, rustling the crunchy, yellow leafs by his feet and Dean pulled his coat tighter around him. “This is probably really stupid.” He could hear how loud his voice sounded in the otherwise too quiet cemetery. “But I won’t say much. I don’t know where you are and whatnot but I want you to know that I don’t blame you anymore and I don’t hate you. I don’t think I love you either though so…” he sighed, the cold air bristling in his airway. “I think you were a god guy once and I don’t know… probably something happened to you back there and changed you like it changed me.” He pursed his lips, clearing his throat a little before kneeling on the ground in from of the headstone. “I don’t think I’ll visit again.” He said, even as he plucked out the weeds and threw them aside.

The inscription read: _John Winchester, beloved son, husband and father. Grant him eternal rest._

Dean dug his fingers in the hard, muddy and grass-covered ground and made a hole, a few inches deep. He took out his military tag and the picture he had of him and John, wrapped the picture around the tag and put them, crumbled and rusted alike inside. His eyes stung, breaming with tears he didn’t think he’d shed as he closed the hole back up.

He looked at the headstone through blurred eyes for one last time and sniffed. His fingers felt numb as he pressed against his lips and then the headstone, covering John’s name. “Goodbye.” He rasped, voice thick and scraped raw.

Getting back was more difficult that dropping down but then again, it always was.

*******

He went straight to Michael’s house after the cemetery because the visit had taken longer than he’d originally planned. When he took his regular seat next to Cas, at the table with minimal fuss, he thought he’d masked his crying fit pretty well but he should have known Cas would have been able to tell anyways.

“Everything okay?” He asked, quietly into Dean’s ear. His voice was gentle, his hand covering Dean’s under the table.

Dean leaned back to look at him, took in the concern in his eyes but the hopefulness as well and it shouldn’t surprise him, how much Cas cared but it still did. “Yeah.” He mumbled and his voice probably still sounded a little thick because Cas squeezed his hand wordlessly. Dean could feel the metal of Cas’s engagement ring against his forefinger.

Cas kept looking at him and Dean was idly aware of the conversation getting louder around them so he leaned forward, close enough that he could nuzzle into Cas’s cheek before turning to briefly brush his lips against his. “It is now.” Dean whispered in Cas’s ear as he pulled away, just before their ridiculous brothers broke out into a course of giddy “awwwww”s.

“You two are just too sweet to bear.” Gabriel grumbled, shaking his head like he thought they were hopeless.

“Come on, Gabbie. They’re in loooove.” Lucifer pointed out with a smirk, stretching out the word love. He took great pleasure in ribbing him and Cas, particularly harder after they got married.

“Shut your face.” Cas shot back. Sometimes, Dean had noticed Cas couldn’t help himself from regressing to a five year old around Lucifer. It never ceased to amaze him, even though he was seeing Cas’s more lighthearted side more and more lately.

Lucifer cackled, unconsciously shifting closer to Sammy on the table. Dean noticed his brother doing the same thing and thought, even though it was obvious to those watching, that neither of them were really realizing they were doing it. He supposed he should probably talk to Sammy about this ever-evolving thing with Lucifer but in doing so, he would inevitably have to bring up Jess as well. Every time Sammy talked about Lucifer though, he looked so happy that Dean couldn’t even dream of reminding him and shuttering his smile so he always forgot to do it. He figured Sammy would notice it sooner or later but until then, he could laugh at all of Lucifer’s inappropriate jabs.

Lucifer sneered like he was about to say something similarly immature but Michael interrupted him. “Come on, Lucifer, let them be happy.” He smiled longingly but tried to mask it as politeness.

Dean often wondered why Michael didn’t have someone. At first, he’d thought it was because he was an insufferable asshole, not quite of Lucifer’s stature but insufferable nonetheless. The more Dean got to know him though, he realized that was far from the case. Sure, there was a certain bite to Michael’s words but ultimately, he wanted his brothers to be happy, Dean could see that, especially when it came to Cas. Because it had been Michael who’d insisted on a wedding party and who’d whined endlessly about not being able to come to the actual wedding, even if it was just a few minutes in a courthouse. But Michael just looked resigned and tired when someone brought it up, pointing out his obligations and his job leaving him with hardly any free time for him to seriously get involved with someone.

“Yeah, Lucie, let them be happy.” Gabriel parroted but he too sounded earnest.

Dean turned towards Cas and wondered briefly how they had become _that_ couple again. The couple everyone turned to as an example of happiness, the destined couple because really, they were far from all that. They weren’t perfect and stupidly in love. Their relationship was filled with cracks, some of them subdued and slowly getting filled and others vicious and gaping, oozing like infected wounds.

They had to try hard, too hard, some days just to be around each other but then again, they never gave and they never left. Cas could most likely find someone to be in a far less complicated relationship with instead of putting up with Dean’s psychosis. And Dean could just stay alone and it’d probably be easier if not as fulfilling. He didn’t want to though and, looking at Cas, taking in the sincerity and gratefulness so blatantly pouring out of him, Dean was sure that he didn’t either.

They weren’t perfect, probably never would be but they worked together. They made each other live truthfully, not hiding behind masks and even thought it was scary, they made it through.

Dean glances at their fingers, intertwined on his thigh under the table and he is struck with sudden certainty that maybe if they aren’t perfect, they are still meant to be, all through the viciousness and the hurt that life has to ungraciously offer. And then, even through the good times, like this and while Dean looks around at the table, at Gabriel laughing over something Michael said and Lucifer whispering something to Sammy that makes him giggle his honking laugh and than back at Cas and their fingers, he knows, there is no place he’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, as promised, this thing does have a happy ending and it's... okay, it's not fluffy, i feel like i should admit that but i think it's pretty sappy so. have fun reading :))))))
> 
> (and make sure to comment so i can wake up tomorrow and read them and, of course, go on to grin like an idiot for the rest of the day ;) )


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